This was a real feeling too, not just a vague frustrated response. As I walked down the hill towards the town centre, the dawn sun was just coming up at the other end of the valley, and I thought to myself that this would be the last sunrise I would ever see. Later while waiting for a train from Bradford to Manchester, another traveller asked me if I knew when the train would arrive (the station information monitors were annoyingly blank). I told him that the train was meant to arrive on the hour, but was running eight minutes late. After the man had thanked me and walked off, I remember thinking that this man would be the last person I would ever help. This little trip I went on took me past many familiar sights, all loaded from forty-seven years of living in this area, and I thought to myself as each one passed, that this would be the last time I would see a particular shop front, street, park, etc.
My thinking (such as it was) was that I would to go to Manchester and throw myself from some high place. I like Manchester. I find it vibrant and modern, and it feels like it's in the twenty-first century, unlike brown-coloured Keighley or Bradford. So I thought I would rather die there, in the future, rather than the crumbling past.
Of course what then happened was, what always seems to happen when I fall into these troughs of despair, I lacked the courage to follow through. My fear of pain and death trumped my self-destructive urge. I staked out many likely places, but was unable to make the final step. I still feel disappointment with myself for this.
Getting the bus out of Bradford in the evening (I had spent all day walking aimlessly. I was tired, thirsty and my feet were aching, aching, aching), the bus headlights picked out a sign for the Samaritans. It seemed fortuitous, like a sign. I jumped off at the next stop and walked back along the dark street until I found the right building.
They were very good, allowing me to talk it all out. The woman there let my use her own mobile phone so that I could ring my parents and let them know where I was. They even gave me a little money so that I could get the bus home (I had nothing left).
Later this morning I intend to ring the care home and try and explain why I didn't show, and why i didn't ring in. What I'm going to say, I'm still not entirely certain, but some aspects of the truth might be a good approach?