You're gonna need a bigger support group

Dear 40 something year old man who jumped in front of the downtown N train at 42nd street and broadway on March 16, 2013 at 8:15 in the morning:

I caught a glimpse of you that morning, jumping.  Hopping really.  It was pretty much the last glimpse anybody was ever gonna catch of you.

I wasn't as close as some people, like the black lady who screamed, or the other black lady that kept yelling "Hello" to you down on the tracks as the train was on top of you, or the hispanic lady that keeled over holding her head and looked like she was gonna be messed up for a while.

It took me a bit to realize what had happened.  It really hit me when I saw the other people on the platform; the way they were reacting.  I was actually looking at them a lot, even more than I was looking at the train.  And the N train just stopped and stood there for a while with the doors closed.  And the people inside the train were looking at all the messed up people on the platform, and then they started to be messed up.  It started to creep up on them that something bad went down.

Me and my buddy stood there on the platform in silence.  Tears in our eyes.  Shook up.  Nothing to say.  When my buddy finally talked, he said something about "Where was God in this man's life?"  Basically saying that if God is in your life, you don't commit suicide.

I just want you to know that I don't hold anything against you.  I'm not mad at you for what you did.  You had no idea that you were going to mess me up that day.  You had no idea at the pain you were going to cause me that day, for days and days and days to come, and for the rest of my life.  Pain on top of pain.  Guilt on top of guilt.

I don't know what to say, but I know that I'm not saying some things that some people say.

And this is for you.  It's worthless, but it's for you.  It's all I can do.  Nothing.  Nothing.

wtf? lol, rothflmfaoyfmf