Writing Journal

[Short story] | Edge 💜

This can be a sensitive topic, so just be aware of the warnings. If you can't handle something well, and not only this story, just skip it, I don't want to trigger something.

warnings [death] [suicidal thoughts] [suicide]

There I saw it. I could feel the edge of the stone bricks, almost connecting with my heels. My bodyweight, dangerously leaning on the ball of my feet, putting all faith in my balance.

I could hear the voices in my head telling me not to do it. The voices of some people in particular, but I knew I was already gone. Even though I was still alive now, it did not feel like it anymore. In my eyes, I had been dead for what feels like a decade. I was already gone, now I only needed to finish it.

Looking into the void underneath me, making me only more eager to do it. It felt like an escape. Like, a sort of reward, after all the hell I have been through. The feeling of the cold air against my pale skin, and the feeling of the cold summer breeze running through my hair, made it impossible not to. I had been waiting for this sort of relief for so long, and now was the time.

Today was it. The day I did not have to worry about anything anymore.

With turning around and leaning a slight bit backwards, I could feel the cold innocent air hitting my chest. Almost as if it was pushing me a little, daring me to do it. I leaned all the way and the gravity was letting me fall mercilessly, still bringing the free feeling into my body.

All the anger, all the sadness, and all the anxiety, I felt them all disappear instantly. The relief was something I had never felt in my life either, yet there also was something else. There was this feeling I could not quite place.

A some sort of regret that was eating me alive from the inside, making me want to rethink my decision. However, it was already too late. I knew that I was about to feel the cold, hard stones in my back. I could not return it anymore.

reading time [01.39]
word count story [330]
word count total [434]