A long time ago, my sister passed away shortly after I lost every single achievement in my life: my job, my family, my house and even my friends. Since my sister was the only one left hanging around, this was the last drop. If anything, being isolated in an asylum was too little, too late. No meds ever helped, no treatment made me any better.
Heck, they even tried regular drugs like cocaine just for kicks, but no, all I wanted to do was kill myself. On my last attempt - which dare I say was finally going to be successful - another psycho from the asylum intervened. He told me had stashed a surprise for me. Why not? One more morning wouldn't interfere with my plans anyway.
By sunrise, he gave me a box. I opened it up, only to see a small cactus. He told me this was me, and that for as long as I watered it without letting it drown, I'd be all right. Instructions also said I'd just have to keep doing it until flowers started popping up. To this day, I'm still locked up, patiently waiting for the next one to blossom. It's beautiful. Sometimes I joyfully wonder if I'm like this little guy.