You called me the moment I said I was going to end my life.

That tiny piece of purpose kept me on the line, still staring at the gun in my hand.

"I'm on my way, don't do anything, please. You can't do this," you pleaded with me. I didn't think anyone was concerned. I really did think no one cared. So insignificant; I started to raise the pistol to my temple.

"Promise me, you will not do anything. I'm staying on the line with you the whole way there. Promise," you demanded. So, I lowered the lethal object and breathed into the phone. Maybe someone does care.

I could hear the rush of traffic outside your car window. You were speeding.

"You know how important your life is. You know how important you are to me," you said breathlessly. I scared you. Maybe I should put this weapon away.

"Killing yourself will solve nothing. You have so much purpose in this life. You have so much love."

That statement I tried not to take as a lie, because I knew you meant it. It bore into my brain as a lie anyways, but you still cared. I pressed the phone to my ear. I needed to hear you say more.

"I'm almost there. You haven't hurt yourself or anything, have you? Please, hold on for a little longer. I'm almost there."

Cars honked through the phone. You really wanted to get to me; racing through red lights and busy intersections. I began to put away the gun. Maybe I shouldn't end my life today.

"How are you doing? I wish you would have told me that you have been having these suicidal tendencies. I want you to know that you have purpose," you sweared as you pulled up to a red light. I heard your car start to accelerate even when it wasn't your turn.

"I want you to know I-"

You were just one light away from my house, from my suicide. I head the crash from my open windows. Screams told me that you didn't survive. The line went dead, just like your heart beat. I placed the dead tone phone on the table and looked at the gun. Rage over took me again and I grabbed the killer. Almost instantaneously after your death I pulled the trigger; one more reason not to carry on. If you didn't make it, how could I?

You died at the moment I was going to save my life.