"Fate Rewritten: Stranger's Intervention Thwarts Homeless Man's Desperate Plan"

[How a random stranger kept me from committing suicide, one December morning, while homeless]

Have you ever heard the expression, most certainly used in the context of grief and or extreme anguish, "Don't give up, there's always a light at the end of the tunnell!" That's great for casual Sunday morning church conversations, prayer group meetings and generally when we're trying to end an uncomfortable conversation but don't want to come across as a dick, even though we really just want to tell said person to shut the hell up and quit whining. This generic pick-me-up phrase also assumes that we're not blind, like we have the luxury of even being capable of seeing "the light" while in our golden "tunnell" of hope, another assumed luxury. But for someone who has reached a certain depth of despair, an ungodly anguish that is conveniently left unspoken of during those Sunday morning church conversations, prayer groups and pretentious gatherings, there's no such thing as a "tunnell" or beacon of "light"- only a prison, a dark chasm which encaptures tortured souls who couldn't see even if they wanted to. Even if they could, that desire died long ago, along with their dignity, esteem and hope.

[Suicide] & addiction unfortunately go hand-in-hand. The disease of addiction is chronic, progressive, and fatal if left un-treated, according to the American Medical Association.

At this point on my journey through skid-row homelessness, I had been living on the streets for roughly 9 months. I had a few changes of dirty clothes which I stole from Goodwill donation bins, shoes that were too small and full of holes, track marks up and down my arms, no cell phone and a ferocious ungodly desire to end this depraved, degenerate madness which had become my life. If I showered and or brushed my teeth once a week I was lucky. When I had any desire to eat, something methamphetamine made very scarce, I resorted to eating out of trash cans. When it came to sleep, I was on the "burn-out" plan. If you're not familiar with this cute cuddly symptom of methamphetamine addiction, you're really missing out bro(facetious). When we stay up for five, six, seven plus days at a time, tweaking our balls off, eventually our body says, "all right f*** you man" and literally shuts down because our brain chemistry is "burnt-out", devoid of any further dopamine, serotonin and norepinephrine production. At this point let's hope you're lying in a beautiful field of dandelions, sitting on a park bench, posted up on a bus, in jail or in the hospital because, "it's goin down(I'm yellin' timber)". "It's" meaning your body and "down" meaning wherever the hell you happen to be at that time.

On this gorgeous day in paradise, I had been up 7 days straight. Next time you get home from a long day at work, the gym, fro-yo and find yourself fighting to stay awake, times that by 7. It's a hell of an experience. Legally, after 48 to 72 hours of no sleep humans begin to show signs of psychosis. Think Cathy Bates in "Misery" or my personal favorite, Jack Nicholson in "The Shining"(Danny's not here misses Torrance). Seriously though, It's no wonder why the CIA's most epically successful torture device is sleep deprivation.

In my opinion, the most dire and serious symptom of sleep deprivation is undoubtedly the violent auditory and visual hallucinations one will certainly experience.

Throw in underlying mental illness, raging drug addiction and a general sense of I don't give a f*** and you have the perfect storm.

[Psychosis] induced physiological domino-effect which occurs when someone is sleep-deprived from excessive meth use.

For the past few days the hallucinations had been building. It started innocently enough, hearing a rogue voice calling out my name and swearing I saw a family member in a crowd. They would turn ever menacing, chanting in my head, "death, death, razor-blades, death, kill, kill," along with other gruesome distorted phrases that are better left unsaid. I had reached the jumping off point. To say I was "done" was the most laughable understatement of the millennium. I had already jumped off the ledge, I just wasn't fully up the mountain yet, although I was doing my best to get there as quickly as I could, albeit like Tom Brady running a 40yd dash.

My plan was simple- find a razor blade, find a public restroom and let the good times roll. At the time, McDonald's on Rundberg Lane allowed homeless people to loiter in their restaurant as long as they were causing trouble. Perfect, step one complete. As I adjusted my course towards McDonald's, I noticed I stepped on something. As I looked down, it might as well have been the devil's face smiling back at me, because packaged up so sadistically sweet was a hygiene kit someone had dropped which just happened to have a fresh razor blade in it. Step 2 complete.

As I walked into Mcdonald's, an overwhelming sense of exhaustion swept over me. I quickly called an audible and decided I would sit down to rest my bones for 5 minutes and gather my thoughts. Shortly after resting my head on the table, I felt a tap on my shoulder followed by a rogue voice, "Hey brother, what do u want to drink?" Startled and not sure what to make of it I quickly looked up to find a random stranger standing before me, radiating the most gracious loving sense of ease I've ever felt in my life. I randomly blurted out, "Dr. Pepper," still not piecing together what was unfolding before me. A moment later, this stranger placed a Big Mac and Dr pepper on my table. He peacefully, gently and affirmly stared right into my soul and said, "Brother, I see you. It's not over, God's got a plan for your life." With that, he left the restaurant and I've never seen him since.

[McDonalds] on Rundberg Lane in Austin TX where a random stranger unknowingly convinced me to not slit my wrists in the bathroom.

Today, for me, three things in this life undeniably, undoubtedly, tangibly ring true- A mother's prayer is worth it's weight in gold, Texas football sucks and THAT man was an angel in disguise. You will never be able to convince me otherwise. That "man" didn't give me a Big Mac and Dr Pepper. He gave me the gift of Dignity, the gift of Hope, The gift of Life in that moment which convinced me to walk out of that McDonald's, the reason I'm still here today. Next time you see someone like me, take it upon yourself to be the angel they desperately need. You never know, it just might save their life. God bless you sir wherever you are.