In January of 1998, I was a hairs-breadth away from killing myself. Nothing had gone right in my life for so long that it seemed like the sun had permanently gone behind a cloud. I was deep in debt, had recently gotten into a car accident (without insurance, I might add), was suffering from carpal tunnel in both wrists, had received an eviction notice from being several months behind on my rent and was working in an absolutely wretched, hellish job that came no-where near paying my basic living expenses. My dog saved my life. If I killed myself, who would take proper care of him? It was a tenuous thread, but I paused long enough to get to a friend's house and he kept me safe and helped give me the breathing space to find my way to my own sort of sanity and peace of mind. Depression is nothing to be taken lightly, but at the same time, those folks behind the cloud need to remember that they do have people who care about their continued existence.

John Donne said it very well:
Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions
"no man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man's death deminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

Sorry about the lack of proper lines. Had to dig this out of my Heavy Thoughts Notebook, where it was very hastily scribbled.