[ WP ] Someone threw himself under my train today . I want to know more about him , to be able to put a story behind his face . Tell me who he was .

> Food had lost its taste. My emotions had lost their contrast, muddling into a melancholy nostalgia that smothered my ability to truly live. I lost sight of the light at the end of my ever-extending tunnel. I knew I was depressed, how could n't I? I had been diagnosed with chronic depression, but even though I knew it was a chemical inbalance I still felt like it was somehow my own fault. 
 
 > Thank the lord it came in swings. If the downs did n't have ups, I would have tried this a long time ago. As it was, I'm surprised I did n't have the guts to do it earlier. I stood and watched the trains go by every day for an hour after work. Every single train was a death sentence written for just for me. 
 
 > This morning was different. I woke up alone again, not unusual. The only times I've woken up with someone else happened before my wife died. It only got worse after that. I stopped taking my medication, stopped seeing my therapist, stopped seeing anything past my own nose really. This morning was the most short sighted of all. I woke up in a haze, my vision blurred by a night spent trying to sleep. Most nights my depression will embody the forms of insomnia. Some nights it's just a meloncholy rush of chemicals speeding through my capillaries. Every night ended in a feeling of regret and a wish that I could feel remorse. 
 
 > Instead of burning off with the morning mist, the haze over my eyes sat there and blurred the lines before my eyes. I saw my own lifeline extend in front of me. I saw the lifelines of a thousand people around me. I saw an intersection on the train tracks. Hundreds of thousands of lifelines, but not mine. 
 
 > I took the train to work, mumbled an excuse to my boss, and headed to my office. It was raining. The shadows from the clouds sunk into my office filling it with a stuffy air of loneliness, but also with the flickering of a great crowd of witnesses around me. I spent the day tracing over lines in my mind, half heartedly fulfilling my daily duties in the office. I made coffee, but the bitter taste was a mere reminder of why I needed it. 
 
 > The haze around me grew darker yet. All I saw was the intersection on the tracks. 
 
 > I was heading home, tired from my lack of sleep. Worn out from a day of self pity and questioning. I watched the crowd, hundreds of people hustling around their busy little lives. Thousands of fish in a small pond. No matter how important they were at work, school, home, wherever else they were coming from or going to, they all became the same size once they walked through the gates. Among them all I was the smallest. A man begged for food on the corner, his eyes glancing around. His eyes glancing at everyone around me, but at no one anywhere near me at the same time. 
 
 > Men tripped, others fell, some even missed their trains. None took notice of the man sitting on the bench on the left side of the station. Even I lost touch with myself. I took out my knife and poked myself, I felt the knife but not the pain. I was disconnected from myself. 
 
 > In moment, the haze washed over me. I felt my feet moving towards the tracks. The train was coming, I would be to late. I felt the ground heave me upward in a final movement. Suddenly it was over. 
 
 I saw him running to the tracks. His jog was purposeful. His dive had a severe intent. I did n't know who he was, but I thank him for his efforts all the same. 
 
 He'd been coming here for weeks now, and I'd seen him watching the trains every single day. My train passed his bench at full speed, perfect for this one last effort. The bump as we rolled over him was small. I expected more, but his body had been rolled over by a significant amount of train before I reached it. I pulled my knife out of my pocket slowly and turned it over in my hand. Was it worth it? After seeing this, my answer was a definite no. The insignificance of a life thrown away hit me like a wave. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed my mother, `` hello? Would you have room for one more at dinner tonight? I believe I can make it after all.''
