Its a bit of a long story but I will keep it brief. I was suicidal from the age of 10 to 16 and had really no reason to be, life was going better for me then most people I knew but I could not shake my suicidal ideation. My first attempt was when I was 10. I had attempted to run away from a perfectly good home but was stopped when my dog, Shadow, who I had took with me for very selfish stupid reasons was ran over by a truck the dark. The worst part of it was that Shadow had been around since I was born and was named Shadow because she would literally follow me like one. Shadow did not die on impact, that would have been to fucking easy, she lied there in a bloody heap whimpering softly, crying in pain. I knew I had to help her but I could not do anything but drag her to the side of the road and watching her slowly bleed out on some middle of fucking nowhere ditch. I could not do a fucking thing, my only friend that I have not ever lived without just died in front of me because I got upset with my family and tried to run away. Shadow followed me everywhere to protect me and keep me safe and I killed her. I got her killed and there was nothing I could do to help her as I watched kneeling over her dying life.
When I finally realized that she had died I found myself on a bridge about an hour away from where she was hit. I don't remember any part of the walk all I remember was watching the water for what seemed like hours until I simply fell into it. There was no thought, no regret, I simply fell to the water. I could not process what had happened, all I knew was that I wanted the pain to stop and the nightmare to end, being 10 years old the only way I knew people could do that was with a gun or a bridge. The bridge was not very high and all I did sprain an ankle and wrist. I made it to the rocks off the riverside and I guess I started screaming because some people found me early in the morning and took me home. I hid this from my family and they still don't know what really happened, they just assumed the dog ran off on its own. Hell maybe they did know but just don't ever bring it up.
A couple of years and I have nothing but anger issues, thoughts of suicide, and a depression that left me with with not a single friend. This left me in a fucking dark place, I wanted to kill myself but could never put the effort into it. I was never happy, only angry. With no outlet for the anger it would only turn in on myself. I would start to destroy myself. physically, emotionally and spiritually. This continued until I was about 15. By this time I was 330 pounds and had a infatuation with morbid things. I would see people dying on the news or read about horrendous events and fantasies that could have been one of those lucky people that died.
This went on until one day I took my grandfathers rifle into the woods to finally let this end. I walked deep into the woods, sat on a tree leg, loaded the rifle, stuck the barrel to my chin and pulled the trigger. Nothing. Nothing had happened. I lowered the rifle to the dirt and Bang there it went a good 5 seconds after I pulled the trigger. I had this hollow feeling in the bed of my chest as I stared at the now upturned dirt. Once everything settled I was angry again, angry that I had to keep feeling this way, angry that I only brought one bullet, angry that I could not rest, angry that I had to continue with this vehemence of living. I blacked out and woke up exhausted. I returned the rifle and walked back home.
For another couple of months I just stayed the same angry lethargic waste. Now this is where Berserk finally comes into play. I googled for more depressing morbid shit and found Berserk. I started reading it very half-assed until chapter 11 page 15. The scene where Guts is lying half dead in a riverbank as a child. This shit triggered the hell out of me because it hit so fucking close to home. Here is this kid who has had nothing but shit dealt to him since birth and he ended up in a similar spot as me, albeit very different it was close enough for me. I became fascinated with Guts, I wanted to see what it was that allowed him to keep going even though the world was against him. It was an interesting parallel that in my mind at least, we were so close to dealing with similar issues of self hate, self destructive tendency, and consumed with anger. Yet with all of this Guts simply continued, he was unfazed by the shit thrown at him and simply kept pressing forward. I on the other hand spent now 6 years of my life defeated and going further and further into a place I did not want to be in but was all I had. I wanted to be like Guts, I wanted to be a person that could use their anger to push forward instead of allowing it to sunder my will to live.
I have been ranting on so I will just cut to the chase. Throughout my life, the moments, and people who have defined me... they have all been illuminated by sparks, for me there was nobody that could pull me out of a path that would have killed me. Kentaro Miura's Berserk and more importantly his character development of Guts saved me. So I guess I had no spark to bring to the flame that is berserk, but at least I was able to warm myself enough in its world long enough to continue with mine.
I am now 21, I have finally been able to let things go and deal with problems as they arise. I have made friends, ones that I actually care about and are cared for by them. I have took up MMA and finally found a productive way to outlet any anger that I may harbor. Its funny because I always knew berserk was a huge part of my life but seeing the picture in OP's youtube link brought a lot of emotions back.
Thank you for reading this and man does it feel good to really show how much positive shit I got from this masterpiece that is Berserk.
TLDR: Was suicidal but Berserk saved me.