Write an email to a homesick gerbil who is a tightrope walker.
TO: wheelnsqueel@comcast.net
FROM: ballrollin@hotmail.com
SUBJECT: RE:I hope i've got ur support man
I guess I always knew I'd see you on the news someday, but not like this.
To be honest, I either thought it'd be you rolling your ball into traffic, or jumping off of a counter-top in front of a whole litter of kids. It kills me to say that, because I love you, man. But you've never been happy a single day that I've known you. God help me, I tried. I introduced you to my sister, even. She's still pissed about that whole stalking thing, by the way. What part of "I enjoyed our date, but I think we should see other people," didn't you understand? Sorry, I'm getting off topic. You don't need that right now.
When you left without even talking to me about the lease or moving your stuff, I kind of figured that was it. I even started making arrangements to send your stuff to your parents, if they wanted it. And then I see your promo on Good Morning America, where you're going to walk a tightrope three stories above the plaza where they do the weather. Jesus, man.
I know what this is, and so do you. As if the fact that you've never walked a tightrope in your life wasn't evidence enough. And the email you sent me!
"God, sometimes I just want to be back home again."
"I was just contacting you to ask for your support in this new adventure I've decided to pull the trigger on."
Holy shit, is that a gun metaphor in reference to your decision to step off of a third-story window sill on live television?
Yeah, you want to be home. Because a part of you, a very primal part of you, knows exactly what's going to happen. There's no going home once your foot slips off of that wire. All that's waiting for you is oblivion. The legacy you will leave is another snuff film on YouTube for 13-year-olds to watch on a dare.
My advice to you is this: Don't do it. Tell the TV guys that you've never done this before, and you planned not to survive. Maybe they'll get you some help, turn it into an inspiring news package. Who knows, maybe they'll even pay for your hospitalization. And if they don't, Dr. Phil probably will. Play your cards right, and you can be home within a few months.
I don't hate you, man. Nobody hates you as much as you hate yourself. Give yourself permission to feel good about being alive again.
If you choose to do this, and God I hope you don't, I'm not going to watch. I'm not going to cheer you on. You can't ask that of me. You have no right. If you really want to impress me and redeem yourself, recognize that you have a problem and get help. There's no shame in that, and I'll be goddamn proud of you for doing it.
Make the right choice, for God's sake.
Your friend,
Mister Bubbles
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