The little things

13. Switching Nights

(1859 words)

Perfect was something Jamison always called the weather when he was at the cliff. The way the stars illuminated the night sky or how the breeze always seemed to push his baby hairs around. It was always calm and relaxed, the perfect type of place for a picnic.

It was just prettier at night and that was what made it perfect.

Now though, he would describe it as dull. The stars were hidden by dark clouds, the breeze brought a shivering cold, and the feeling of calmness wasn't there. Tonight, the cliff felt like it was trying to hide away, something Jamison was way too familiar with. It was a feeling that Jamison was slowly losing.

Yet he still stayed.

Of course, he would, this was his place. The view was beautiful and the feeling of being able to drop off anytime he wanted always refreshed him. It always reminded him that he was in control of his own life, even if it was just a little bit.

Even if the tiny bit that he controlled was the time of his own death.

But the dullness of the night had a thought crossing his mind, a thought that told him he was happy that none of the boys came to the cliff, and not just so he could die. They already had to deal with his emotionless mood, they didn't have to deal with the earth's plain one as well.

And for the longest time he thought they wouldn't. Even though his voice wouldn't pass a whisper to tell the stars about his shitty day, he wanted the Mystery boy to be here. He wanted Nerdy boy to tell him about a new book and he wanted the Mean boy to tell him how shitty he looked. Jamison already knew he was attached to the boys he wanted gone and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get them out of his head.

He just wanted company and the view of an empty sky was making his own insides emptier.

It was around three in the morning and Jamison was ready to just push himself over the edge, his legs already halfway there, but he refrained. He told himself that by the end of the month he would end his life, he had three weeks left, he wasn't allowed to take a short cut. He was one to follow through with his word, no matter how much he wanted to take it back in that moment.

Another harsh breeze passed by and he silently cursed himself for not grabbing longer sleeves or a hair tie. Jamison's hair followed the wind violently, the few disobedient strands getting into his eyes. He was someone who loved the cold, but tonight the cold was more than just an outside feeling.

The cold he felt was like a suffocating loneliness.

His eyes drifted to the town below and he followed one lonesome taillight. It was heading for the outside of town and that got him thinking. What if he just ran away instead? What if he gathered some of his things and just left?

His dad wouldn't care, not like he ever did, and his mom was long gone out of his life. All he would need is the money he saved up from work and a wish of great luck. But that also got him thinking about the boys.

Either way he would be leaving them, either for all of eternity or just for a few years, hoping to see them again.

But ending his life would end the thoughts that didn't steam from kids at his school. Ideas that didn't come from his parents. Actions that he could only do to himself. Words that didn't come from the mouths of his peers.

He couldn't promise that all of that would stop if he just left the town. It could thin them out, but it wouldn't make them disappear, not like it would if he ended his life. If he left it would just stop the words that entered his ears, not the ones that never leave. It wouldn't stop his eyes from finding everything wrong with his body and it wouldn't stop his actions when nights didn't feel as calming as they should have.