An Attempted Suicide (WARNING: GRAPHIC IMAGES)

It was a beautiful Saturday. We were day-drinking at a friends house in Beverly Hills and talking about everything and nothing. I had just returned to LA from New York and was catching up with my old friends. I was with my two best friends and I was staying at one of their apartments until The Ex and I made permanent arrangements for me to move in to his new place.

We were having a great time at our friends place. Each of us were holding our own bottles of Veuve and drinking from crazy straws while Jay-Z blared over the speakers. “The Friend” was looking a little bit gloomy and I asked her if anything was wrong. She complained that she didn’t get enough sleep and she was going to take a pregame nap back at the friends house who I was staying with. I euro-kissed her and said goodbye.

An hour or so later, I, too, was ready for a little nap. I said ciao to my friends and hopped into an Uber. I texted The Friend that I was on my way home. When I didn’t get an immediate response, I assumed she was probably still sleeping. We arrived and I dragged my drowsy self into the elevator. I opened the door and immediately dropped my bag.

The Friend was sitting in the middle of the room with a blanket wrapped around her. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying and her hair was a mess. She gazed up at me nonchalantly with a glazed over look and didn’t say anything to me. I stood there in silence as I digested the situation. I recognized my pill bottles around her with their lids strewn. Oh God.

I crawled over to her and knelt next to her. She still didn’t speak. I picked up the bottle of Klonopin and noticed it was empty. I must’ve had ten pills in there. I grabbed her shoulders.

“Babe… Babe, what did you take? What’s going on?”

She opened her mouth to speak and then shut it.

“Babe, I need you to tell me what you took.”, I said a little bit more aggressively.

She nodded towards the bottles of prescription medication.

“I finished your klonopin, took four zoloft, and an adderall”

I drifted into panic mode. I picked up her limp body and dragged her to the bathroom. She laid next to the toilet with her body still encased in the blanket. I picked up her head and stuck my fingers down her throat and tickled her tonsils.

“Babe, you need to throw up. You need to do it now. I’m calling an ambulance.”

She lifted her head to protest and tried to vomit. When nothing came out, I splashed water on her face and reached for my phone. As I did this, she tried to quickly rewrap the blanket but since she was so drugged, it didn’t happen quick enough and I saw a flash of red. I tore the blanket from her and my jaw dropped. Her wrist was covered in horizontal cuts and her thigh had deep gashes in it.

“Oh my god. No… You didn’t…”, I began but suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I was going into a panic attack. I snapped out of it cause I knew I had to act fast.

She began to softly weep and I tried to call 911. The operator kept asking questions and I didn’t have time for it. I hung up and called an uber knowing that Cedar-Sinai Hospital was a block away. I called an uber because they’re so rampant in LA. A car is always about 1-3 minutes away from you at all times.

The driver arrived 40-seconds later. I picked her up like a toddler and ran out of the door. She was very skinny so it wasn’t too difficult. I loaded her into the car and the driver stepped on it. We made it in a minute. He helped me carry her out of the car and into the emergency room. I yelled out that she was overdosing but I didn’t hear myself. It felt like I had cotton in my ears. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

A nurse quickly loaded her into a wheelchair and I followed her and another man who was asking me simple questions.

“What did she take?”

“She took two of my 50 mg Zoloft, one of my 30 mg instant release Adderall, and ten of my 0.5 Klonopin.”

“How long ago?”

“I don’t know! I just walked in on her like this 25 minutes ago!”

“They were your pills?”


He scribbled away and I waited while they hooked her up to an IV. I think I momentarily blacked out because I don’t remember exactly what happened next. I suffer from panic attacks (hence, the klonopin prescription) and they can become very intense. I will black out or become disillusioned from myself. The worst panic attack I have ever experienced will be described more in depth in one of my next posts to give you guys an idea of how they work and affect the brain.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting next to her with my chin on the hospital bed railing. I knew I had to stay strong for her so I held her hand and remained composed while she stared straight ahead. Finally, she turned her head towards me. I will never forget the look in her eyes. I have never seen that much sadness and hopelessness exuding from a human being.

She began to speak.

“I hate it. Everything. Everything makes me depressed and I want to die. Nothing is ever going to be simple again and I’ll never be who I used to be.”

The tears poured out of me. My sweet little friend. She was a broken little thing and I felt powerless. I couldn’t do anything to pick up those pieces. It was deeper than anything I knew.

She began to explain what happened after she left the party. She had done a little coke and was feeling extremely down. Everything was coming down on her and she felt desperate. She began to stab at herself with a dull knife. When that barely broke the skin, she went to the gas station and bought a pair of scissors and Cheetos.

“I wanted to leave the world with a stomach full of junk food.”, she said with a giggle.

I only wept harder. I am thankful for those Cheetos because they slowed down the process of her quest to end her own life.

Next, she took the pills so she wouldn’t feel pain and began to saw away at her wrists and thighs. She wanted to go deeper but didn’t want to die too quickly. She was savoring the pain. She thought she deserved it. And that’s when I discovered her.

She asked me to take a video of how she looked and send it to her.


The doctors asked me if they could speak with her alone so I went outside to call my mom and The Ex. Caitlin was with my mom and it brought the both of them to tears. I dialed The Ex and explain what had happened. It was difficult to speak through all of my tears and listening to his gentle cooing.

“I just don’t even know what to think. I’m in total shock. I feel so sad for her. Can I come over tonight?”

He cleared his throat.

“Not tonight, Megan. I’m really exhausted and I have an early morning meeting.”

I felt like I had just been shot in the heart. Was he fucking joking?

“Um.. What?”, I stuttered.

“Babe, come on. I just went to dinner with my mom and it was draining.”

I could’ve sworn I heard my heart break into a thousand pieces. I was silent for a moment not knowing how to react. Suddenly, my sadness turned to anger.

“I just walked in on my friend who was attempting to kill herself and rushed her to the hospital, and you won’t fucking see me tonight?”, I mustered as calmly as I could.

He started his usual “don’t be like that” talk.

“FUCK YOU!”, I screamed and hung up, unloading another batch of tears. I sat on a curb because I felt like my body was going to give out at any moment. While I lamented over my asshole of an ex, I shot straight up. OMG MY FRIEND!

Fuck him, it’s not about him. It’s about HER and getting her through this. I trudged back in to the hospital and thought about how much I hated them. They reminded me of death because the last time I had been in one was when my grandmother passed away. I watched her breathing deeply in a vegetable state and knew she was never coming back.

Her doctor pulled me aside. He said that he didn’t believe she would do it again and they were releasing her. This boggled me. How is it that someone who tried to overdose on pills and slashed her wrist wouldn’t be further examined? But they did. They let her go and told me to keep an eye on her. What the fuck, Cedar-Sinai?

We went back to my friends apartment and cautiously walked in. It was a literal crime scene. I noticed the things that I hadn’t seen before: the red scissors, the discarded Cheetos bag, the blood stains on the blanket. Suddenly, the exhaustion overcame me and I laid in bed before drifting off quickly.

I awoke at 3 AM in a pitch black room with only a light coming in from underneath the bathroom door. My heart was in my throat as I braced myself for what I was about to walk into. Would she be on the ground and foaming at the mouth from ingesting more pills? or would her lifeless body be floating in a bathtub full of diluted blood?

I turned the knob and burst through. She was perched atop the bathtub side and painting her nails. She was peering up at me with furrowed brows.

“I just… I didn’t know.. I’m sorry..”, I mumbled and basically jogged back to bed. Was I just dreaming? Did today even happen? I had no idea. Nothing felt real that night.

I rose at 10 AM and was greeted with the sight of her sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at me. I went to speak but I had no energy in me to do so.

“I’m going home. I talked to my mom last night and told her everything. She bought me a flight and I’m leaving in 3 and a half hours.”

I shook my head but she held up her hand to stop me.

“When you burst into the bathroom last night, you looked so worried and scared. If I stay then I will be a burden to you.”

I explained that she would never be a burden to me but I agreed that maybe it was a good idea to go home and be with her family. I accompanied her on the drive and held her hand in silence. I tried to conceal my tears the best I could. I didn’t know when I would see her again and that was extremely painful. I clutched her tightly as we said our goodbyes and watched her slowly walk into the terminal, the klonopin still in her system.

We spoke quite a bit her first couple days at home and she decided to go away to model again. I wouldn’t be able to get in contact with her unless it was through WhatsApp. She’s better now and happy which makes me happy. I asked her if I could write her story anonymously and she agreed. She’s a beautiful soul and one of my best friends for life.

Love you.


Megan Kennedy


2 thoughts on “An Attempted Suicide (WARNING: GRAPHIC IMAGES)

  1. This is terrible. I think unless this is fiction, that you need a spiritual intervention pronto. I suggest you recruit friends and immediate family to perform such an intervention as soon as you can. If your family has access to a reliable deacon, my family’s experience has been positive.


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