fallingfromthursday:

There’s a delicately weaved story behind this picture, and I might as well jump right in.

I’ve struggled with depression and suicidal thoughts my entire life. I’ve had several failed attempts, my last, this past November. I logged into to twitter, to leave a note, just in case someone cared. And  I I saw one of his tweets, first thing on my feed. Now Misha was my hero before this, but I just didn’t think I could fight anymore. His tweet was one of his rare, sincere, down to earth, thankful tweets. In fact, it was about being thankful, for every single one of us. When I saw it, I needed to keep living, I needed to keep going, because he was thankful for me. No one had ever been thankful for me. In that moment I felt a rush of hope, and it’s kept me going since. He has kept me going since. Every relapse I have, every moment I feel like I can’t go on, I remind myself that he is thankful .I got involved with tumblr, because of him. Because if he saved me, he’d surely saved so many others.  I’ve found my place here, my niche. My home, and I have only him to thank. 

I’ve been preparing in therapy for this moment, for six months. I didn’t think I could do it. But today, today I told the man who saved my life thank you. 

I had a photo op with him this afternoon, and I asked for a hug, and it was all quickly done as I knew it would be, but also so very personal. I thought that my life was complete then, and it was, for the moment.  I went to a secluded spot in the lobby, and I broke down. I stood next to him, the reason why I’m still breathing, the reason I will keep breathing, and it was too much, too fast. I cried for a good two hours. Sobbed into the side of my arm. 

And then autographs came, and I was nervous again. My hands were shaking, and I knew it would be too busy, they wouldn’t be able to personalize anything. That was okay, I just wanted to tell him thank you. I didn’t need him to remember. I needed to remember. 

I waited, and I waited and finally at last my group of numbers was called. I made my way to the line, and I waited some more, and then it moved so fast, and I was in front of him,  and he is so fucking pretty up close and then it was real again. I didn’t know what to do, so I just poured out my entire soul. 

He told my my picture was fantastic, and asked how I was, and so I told him. I told him that now I had my chance, I had to tell him. I told him that he saved my life, and that he kept me going, and that I knew he was humbled when he was told these things. He nodded in agreement. Offered a half smile, but his gaze was so intense. One of the most intense things I’ve ever seen. At this point I was crying, but his eyes never disconnected with mine. 

And I told him about my SM, and how I’d been in therapy for a very long time just to be given the chance. Still, his eyes never left mine. When I was finished, after I’d told him thank you, again. He held out his hand, then said “shit.” in this defeated tone, he was so fucking touched by my little story. He stood up, pushed past the attendant who tried to stop him. He walked around the table, and he hugged me. A full on hug, and he held on, tightly for about a minute. When he pulled away, he squeezed my shoulder, once, twice. 

He moved back to the table, pulled my picture to him again, and he thought for a very long time before he looked back at me, and there were tears in his eyes. By that time I was beyond tears. He looked back down and wrote that. 

He asked me what my name was, and I told him Sophiaa, with two a’s. He laughed and asked “how the fuck do you spell that with two a’s?” Then thought for half a second and said. “fuck, I know.”  Laughed again, mumbled sorry under his breath. He handed me my picture, grabbed my hand again, and told me to keep fighting, that he was proud of me .

He is my lighthouse in the storm, and this meant everything to me. This will keep me going for the rest of my life. Because he is so proud of me. He is proud that I made it. He said he was humbled by me, but I was humbled by him. I was warned that perhaps I’d placed him too high with my hero like admiration of him. My faith wasn’t misplaced. It never could have been, he went above and beyond anything I ever expected. 

Misha Collins saved my life again tonight.