One Valentine's Day when I'd just had enough of everything I walked out on my date, bought a bottle of vodka, grabbed all my meds (tons of saved-up mood stabilizers, benzos, sleeping pills etc) and went down to the beach. It was after midnight and I just lay in a secluded spot in the sand and watched the stars and the harbor lights, happy it was all finally ending. Valentine's was the anniversary of my youngest brother's death and it always got to me. That night I was sure I would finally see him again, and my parents, and everyone I missed.

Time passed and I watched the stars fade in and out. There was a beach bar nearby and I watched the lights go out as the last patrons departed. I knew I was finally alone, and I was more content than I could ever recall. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, it was if a voice spoke directly into my brain: get up, go home, sleep in your own bed tonight. WTF? It didn't even make logical sense. I'd walked down to the beach from my home on the hill. I'd have to cross a four-lane highway and walk about ten minutes to reach my street, then a few minutes more to my avenue. Yet, I decided to obey. I struggled to my feet and started towards the highway. I remember ripping the labels off my meds (erasing my name) and dumping the empty packets, the vodka bottle and the plastic cup I'd nabbed from my favorite nightclub into the trash. I took a few steps forward and all of a sudden I was reeling backwards and staring up at the stars. I got up and tried again. A few steps and I again reeled backwards and fell flat on my back. Next thing I knew, this older couple, apparently the last patrons who for some unknown reason were standing outside the bar in my line of sight approached me. I remember being coherent when they asked what I'd taken. I even remember rummaging in the trash to show them the empty packets, and them asking why I'd torn the labels off. And I remember being helped into the back of a police van because they didn't think they should wait for an ambulance.

My next memory is of waking up two days later, hooked up to machines. It was surreal, and, as on my previous attempts, I had this euphoria, a kind of renewed love for life and I couldn't understand why I'd ever want to leave it. But the difference this time was realizing that something had stopped me with greater force than ever before. That random thought that popped into my head, the sudden desire to lie down in my own bed - I saw it as a sign from beyond, from the people I've lost, telling me that for whatever reason, I needed to stay.

Since then I've had moments of wanting to get the hell out, but I remember that night, and all my other close calls. I figure I'm here for a reason, however elusive it might be. I don't bother trying to escape anymore. I just try to find the things that make staying worthwhile.