Oblivion

The Edge

The wind tastes free. Can wind do that? Or is it the thought of it that tastes free? The memory; the idea of freedom that the wind just guides into the air? The feelings that follow?

I just sit here, staring out at the horizon, watching the moon grow brighter as the street lights flicker on, and the lights in the houses turn off. One by one. I stare at the houses that hold all the kids that I've seen grow up. That have seen me grow up.

I stare at my feet, that dangle off the side of the school's roof, and I scoot closer. Closer to the edge. Closer to the imminent death that would come if I fell. I imagine how it would feel. To fall. How the people I've grown up with would feel. I know how I feel, at this moment, tasting the wind that shouldn't taste at all.

Empty.

I feel nothing.

My life sucks. And yes. I know. I've got a great life, a roof over my head, food on the table and apparently a bright future ahead of me. I just can't appreciate it with all of my teenage angst. But what's the point of having a good life if you still feel nothing? If you're constantly looking for anything that will make you feel something? And what's the point of talking it out if everyone's just going to tell you how messed up you are? How fucked up it is to want to just leave. And yes. I know. It's the easy way out. Staying is worth fighting for, being happy is worth fighting for. But is it really? Because while it seems like a pretty god awful decision to make, staying seems even worse. Why should happiness be so hard to gain? What's the point of fighting for something that's as fleeting as happiness? There's a lot of options. I could get help. The same help that costs money, the same help that rewards you with the disappointment from your family. I could get medicine. The same medication that ends up suppressing your depression, but also your other feelings, the same medication that will grant you with the ever growing feeling of emptiness. The fight between staying and leaving is probably one of the hardest fights ever fought. Harder than those fought by gladiators in the colosseum, harder than those fought by Alexander the Great. Living is a hard fight that is more often than not lost.

I have come to the conclusion that if I no longer want to live for myself, I have to live for others. I have to live for the partner I might meet someday, I have to live for my parents, I have to live for those who couldn't stay any longer.

That's normal.

Right?

I scoot back from the edge.

High school sucks. It is the cruelest thing to ever be created by man. Simply put, high school is a living hell. I don't know much about my parents' years in highschool, we don't talk about them much. But the little information I do know has made me realize that highschool isn't a living hell for everyone.

You see, my parents didn't fit the criteria for school to be such a place. High school was where my parents met, fell in love, and enjoyed their lives together before being burdened by me. Dad was on the baseball team and my mom was on the swimming team. Mom gave up swimming to support my dad, and that was that. From what I know, the few racist fuelled microaggressions towards my parents were the only hardships they had to face.

They weren't told to go kill themselves because they were a freak; because they were deemed worthless. They weren't suspended because they threw the first punch when they'd had enough; too much. Their best friend didn't succeed in what they tried to do. They weren't diagnosed with depression two years ago, and given up on. They didn't decide to stay in the tiny little closet because of how much crap they already take.

But, it's okay; it's fine.

Life's fine.

I just have to find the right person, I just have to grow up, I just have to see all the great things this life has or what this life has in store for me.

I'm not okay.

I'm not fine with waiting 17 years of my life to be happy.