Our last night together

Do you ever feel alone? So alone that your heart feels isolated, your soul trapped? Sometimes, sometimes I wonder if someone else is out there walking this same desolate path, their life void of kindness and shelter from the constant storm clouding their mind, but I would never know, I would never meet them, never know them, because well, that's what being alone entails.

You see, if you were to stop someone on the street, and ask them what 'alone' meant, they would probably spurt out some crap from the dictionary, something like "having no one else present". But to anyone who's actually alone? You can be surrounded by people, you can be in a room of co-workers, or family members, but do any of them care? Would any of them spare you a moment of their time to hold their hand out to you, to pull you away from the clutches of your own mind you fought so hard on your own to escape?

I came to the conclusion a little while ago, that I was alone. Truly alone, and had been for quite some time.

And as blue bleeds into pink, and orange to red, I watch the sun sink deep below the mountains and specs of white flicker behind the sheen blanket of clouds. It's peaceful, serene. The one place I've ever felt truly at peace on this planet. A place where I was able to turn to, a place where I could shy away from the noise and the rush of the world.

As I watch the sun set, I can almost feel the effect of the drugs taking their toll on my body. So here I am, sat with my legs swinging over the void below my feet, the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins, fighting the urges in my head telling me to lean forward, to just push off. God damn intrusive thoughts.

Sometimes, I would wish I was a bird. Born with the freedom to fly wherever I wanted, to be free from the clutches of the human existence, the worries and the pressures that curl their way around you and wrench out your soul. The freedom of not being expected to get a paying job and a nice house, the freedom of being able to go anywhere, at any time.

Watching the birds silhouetted against the fading sunlight, circling round the tops of trees that stand in clumps on the forest floor, I feel a pang of jealousy towards them, oh how I envy the freedom they possess. What I would give to be able to fly away from the lights of the city and the rush of people. When I was younger I would've given anything to have freedom like that.

I wonder if anyone is thinking about me, wondering what I'm doing at this very moment of time. I wonder if they care, or if they would if they knew where I was, or if they knew that the drugs were slowly taking control of my body, draining my life force away from me. I wonder that if anyone was to find me here, at the edge of this forest, looking out over the trees, and glistening lights of houses and their blissfully unaware inhabitants, would they pull me back from the edge? Would they pull me so my legs rest solidly on the ground again? Hold me and tell me how stupid I am?

There's a reason I went somewhere so private, so secluded. So people couldn't pull me back, so no one can see me, find me, feed me more lies of the future and of the life I'll never know. Because each and every day I wake up, and I fight. I fight the war waging inside my mind, I battle against  the dark thoughts, the pains and the struggles thrown at me. 

I can feel my body growing weaker, and I'm not afraid. In fact I'm prepared to open my arms and welcome death as an old friend. To let him lead me down the path towards freedom, to a painless relief into nothingness. When I was younger, a thought like that would have terrified me, being hand in hand with death himself, walking weightlessly away from my body and all my fears.

The moon glances down at me pitifully, sending reassuring glimmers of light down through the trees to dance by my fingers. My eyes grow heavy, and my heart rate begins to slow. Some part of me will miss this, miss the breeze blowing through my hair, miss the sound of leaves harmoniously rustling against each other. It'll miss the sound of the rain against windows, and the way the flame dances on a candle. That part of me lost the battle a long time ago. It lost its grip on its sense of reality and started the vicious tumble down into the depths of my mind, inevitably pulling the rest of me with it.

I don't regret anything. I don't think I've missed out on any of the 'great luxuries' life has to offer. I'm at peace. I can't say I'm happy, because well, why would I be here?  But I'm content.

My eyes begin to droop, and I lose my touch with the solidity with the ground beneath me. I feel my breathing becoming harsher, and I know this is where our short story will come to an end.

And so, this is goodbye.

Long ago, I had decided, that when I left this planet, it would be somewhere special, somewhere beautiful. Somewhere meaningful.

And here? Here is that place.