helicopter trees

"you know how sometimes, when people see a little kid, they say 'oh, i just want to eat it or it's so cute, i just want to squeeze it to death--it's just so adorable?' well, when i see matt, i just want to fix him."

i almost killed someone yesterday. i was driving home from the bar. it was late--dark. i was on the phone with matt at the time. i asked him to call me when he got home--just to make sure he made it home OK. he was kind of drunk.

i was driving down bluff and suddenly, in the headlights, i see a dark figure. it took me a moment to register that it was an actual human being and not an animal. i mean, it would have been bad enough if it were an animal. i'm not saying that. hitting either would have been traumatizing, perhaps equally so, but the shock of seeing an actual human being--it was akin to accidentally seeing someone naked.

luckily, i collected myself in time to swerve. i looked back and the guy didn't even flinch. he was walking purposefully, staring straight ahead, stomping his feet as if prepared to march defiantly into death--not fearing the consequences. he probably wasn't religious. can you imagine a life worse than the prospect of hell?

like i said, he seemed defiant--maybe he'd had it with the world.

i'd like to think he was smart. dumb people don't commit suicide. i mean, they do. but it's always the smart ones that seem so tragic. maybe it's just something we attach to people who choose to end their own lives--something we assume, after the fact. that there's inherent wisdom in following through with such an act--maybe we've just got everything ass-backwards and it's just really easy to mistake abstractions, concepts like courage, determination and nihilism for genuine understanding.

probably he was drunk and mad at his girlfriend. his mother. his boss. who the fuck knows what drives people to act so childish.

"oh, fuck. fuck. fuck," i said. matt asked me what was wrong. "i almost hit someone. i think i need to call somebody."

i was really freaking out. matt didn't seem to care. that or he was just really tired--intoxicated. at some point the two become hard to separate. "dude, let him get hit."

"no, man. that's not cool. that's not right," i said. "i need to call someone."

"it's not your problem," he said. "let someone else deal with it."

"yeah. the police. i need to call the police and let them deal with it."

"whatever, dude."

i hung up and dialed 911. the possibility of the man actually getting hit became more and more plausible with each passing second. i knew i should do something. i mean, i didn't want to feel responsible--in the chance that something did happen. i don't think i could handle that. it amazes me that some people can--they deal with that kind of thing everyday. i don't know what that says about them, exactly. i didn't want to have to babysit this complete stranger, though. i'd done enough that night--babysitting matt. making sure he got home in one piece. why should i have to deal with someone else's bullshit?

i kind of wish it were that easy. if you ever felt overwhelmed or depressed or lonely, you could just stand somewhere, in the middle of a road, in the dark, and wait for someone to hit you. or, maybe, they wouldn't. maybe someone would care enough and attempt to save you. the ultimate trust game. i wish i could be so reckless. throw myself and all my bullshit to the wind and rely on someone else, someone with a less murky sense of morality, to go and fetch the scattered pieces. put me back together, again.

god, i sound like a moron.

i called 911 and they said they'd dispatch an officer--they'd be there shortly. the operator didn't seem at all concerned. i guess, looking back, i don't blame her. i'm not even sure, myself, if it was that big of a deal. i mean, maybe the guy was just being melodramatic. maybe he knew no one would hit him. or he would jump at the last minute. i don't know.

i went back five minutes later, just to check on him--see if the cops had arrived. on my way back, he had switched lanes. now, he was waiting to get hit on the other side. i didn't see any cops and i didn't want to turn around again--keep at this game any longer. i mean, after a while, he might have gotten wise and tried something. i don't know. if you're crazy enough to kill yourself, you're probably crazy enough to kill someone else.

also, i knew that, even if i tried to stop and talk to him, there's nothing i could really say that would change his mind. i mean, he seemed pretty sure of himself and his decision. how do you talk someone out of that? especially, if you're me? he probably would have just gotten irritated. who knows, he could have become violent towards me. and then what?

i'm probably just a coward who scatters at the first sign of conflict.

yeah. that's probably more accurate.

i finally forced myself to drive home, in complete silence--i needed to think. i took an alternative route. i didn't want to pass by him anymore. i resolved to lay all my trust in the apathetic dispatcher i spoke to earlier. and the cops. it was easier that way.