Probably my suicide attempt.

I remember having a pretty hard time my freshman year of college. It was at around that time that my grandfather, whom I was really close to, passed away after having a long fight with colon cancer. It was really hard to find any kind of motivation with my schooling and my grades started to dip. Somewhere along the way I got it in my head that I was destined to be this lonesome, pathetic sack of a human being and it would somehow be better in the grand scheme of things to end my life as soon as possible. After lying to my mother for another time that I was going to class, I drove to and took a walk over the bridge. It was a slow day, and there weren't really any cars around so I determined the conditions to be pretty ideal. I climbed over the railing and just stood there for what felt like a millennium all while looking down, bawling my eyes out. I slipped. Not enough for me to fall down, but enough for me to throw almost all of my upper arm strength to keep me from falling. It really began to sink in that I had almost died, and my survival instincts triggered myself into hopping back over the railing as fast as possible.

That was six years ago, and I inevitably got the help I needed. Although, the image of the water and the railing are so deeply ingrained into my psyche that I still have nightmares as I careen down into the water only to wake up in a cold sweat.