my housemate did it… thanks for nothing!

My housemate of 2 years and friend of 10 shot and killed himself in May of this year (2012).  I was downstairs and had texted him to ask if he wanted some scrambled eggs I was making.  I heard him walking around, but he never answered my text.  Later, afterward, I looked at his phone and I saw my text message had been read.  He knew I was up, he knew I was home.  Twelve minutes after I sent the text I heard a sound like a box had been dropped on the floor.  For some reason I noted the time.  This sound was loud but not like a gunshot.  About 4 minutes later I heard a much larger sound that I knew was a gunshot.  I ran upstairs and into his room.  There was a strong odor of iron, or metal, and a faint smell of gunpowder.  It was the blood.  He was lying on the 3/4 position on his back and blood was pooling everywhere around his head.  It was very, very dark red.  I ran to call 911 and then came back immediately while on the phone with them.  I was looking at everything.  The pistol was still in his hand, so I moved it.  There were three notes on the other side of the bed.  One was a “Do Not Resuscitate”  note.  One was a statement to his parents.  One simply said my name and “Sorry…”   This sounds like a long sequence of events, but it was actually probably 1/2 a second to take all that in.  Next I realized he was still alive.  The 911 operator told me I had to try to help him breath.  There was blood everywhere and I was scared.  The skin underneath his jaw, like the part directly under his tongue, was blown out.  His mouth was all black and sooty.  His two front teeth were sticking forward.  But his face was otherwise okay.  Anyway, he was drowning on his own blood now.  So pulled him to his back.  I put my hand under his neck.  I tilted his head back into my other hand.  That’s when I felt the exit wound on the back of his skull. At this point I’m covered in blood.  With his head tilted back I ran downstairs to open the door for the police, who I heard arriving outside.  They pulled me aside and then EMTs ran up the stairs.  Moments later they were bringing him down and he was gone.  The police worked the scene for almost three hours.  A counselor sat with me outside our house the entire time.  I couldn’t stop talking.  I was talking about everything that had been going on.  My roommate had suffered from depression for years.  He had a very difficult week that week, but everyone knew about it.  And I mean, his parents, our friends, and his lover.   We had all made extra efforts to be there for him.  I told her about all of this.  Eventually they were finished.  It was at this point that I realized no one else knew.  I mean, his family had not even been told.  None of our friends knew.  I hadn’t called anyone because I was talking with the police.  The counselor said she had to go, but that she was very concerned that I be left alone.  At that point, I realized I had to call my best friend and tell him.  I knew he could help even though he lived over 1000 miles away now, in Los Angeles.  Once I reached him on the phone, and I started to try to talk, it was too much.  I was crying and hysterical.  I could barely form the sentences.  I felt so much dread.  And guilt that I would have to tell my best friend that another of our very good friends was dead.  That’s the worst part, you see.  Even to this day, thinking about what my roommate did doesn’t really crush me inside.  But remembering the look on everyone’s face when I told them what happened, breaking that horrible news to people  we both loved, THAT is the unbearable part.  My roommate turned his own problems onto ME.  He put that horrible experience in me.  I don’t hate him for it, but it has really messed me up.  I’m scared I’m fucked up inside now.  I mean, I KNOW I am.  I’m a guy, and I’ve always been “the strong one”, so people don’t really appreciate my vulnerability   But I’m scared of my own thoughts now.  I remember everything that happened that day, but the next 3-4 days after that have disappeared.  For instance, I saw “The Avengers” two days after this happened, but I only know that because my friends told me.  I have NO RECOLLECTION of even going to the movie!  You can’t imagine what it’s like to feel that part of your memory is gone or something.  And Kyle did that to me.  So I wanted the rest of you to read these details.  I want you to understand that even if you think you have the right to end your own life, you don’t have the right to ruin someone else’s.  And no matter how “worthless” you think you are, we all touch each others’ lives.  When one soul vanishes, he takes a bit of everyone else with him when he goes.  I don’t hate my roommate, but I know it wasn’t right what he did to me, to us, to our friends.  Will this thing he put in me ever go away?    I can’t stop crying.   I just want to feel in control again…