Somehow I ended up going out on a date with someone I met on a suicide hotline. We had a fabulous time, dinner at this wonderfully strange Vietnamese restaurant next to a laundromat, then a couple of drinks at some wine bar/bookstore/arcade where we laughed and laughed. Afterwards we stopped at some odd bakery where no one spoke English, ate some chocolate thingy with our hands and drank really good coffee out of shitty styrofoam cups. We then went back to my place and had surprising wonderful sex in my kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom.
They killed themselves the next day. Still not sure how I feel about it. Goddammit I wish I knew how to feel about it.
