He was standing there. He was hanging on the railing of the Hudson, stripped and ready to jump in. “I’ve lost my spark” he declared. Life came from water. He rationalized that it made sense to go back to die. But this was not supposed to be a suicide attempt; he did not actively want to die. He just wanted to see how his frame would fare in the current. He lead his life shielding his depression from his peers so that it would not be his defining characteristic as a person. And now he feels like a fraud. This fantasy ruse combats the reality of his depression to the point where he does not know what is real anymore. And parasuicide seems like the solution. If someone were to pull his living body from the river, there would be questions and an investigation and it would finally be like his depression is real. His family would know. His friends may know. And the road to recovery can begin. Or, he could let the water take him and his lifeless body could wash ashore in Hoboken. He’d be dead, and he just wouldn’t care anymore now would he? This is our life, shouldn’t we be able to decide our own time to go? When the time came to take the leap, he couldn’t do it. Apparently, he cares more about his own life than he’d like to admit. And here comes the reassurances that he is a phony. He put his clothes back on and slept in the streets. He went to work the next day like nothing had happened, and then went out the next night like nothing had happened. It’s back to the fantasy ruse.