"It was a hell of a way to die," I whispered dramatically to myself, standing on the edge of the second-floor balcony, peeping down at the ground below, gazing at the massive drop. (Okay, maybe not massive-two floors wouldn't exactly make headlines.) But, in the moment, it felt epic. I could practically hear the tragic violin music playing in the background. The whole moment was so poetic, I was almost impressed with myself. But, alas, if only I had the guts! And all of a sudden a wave of overly dramatic tears started flowing down my face-"Why am I such a drama queen?," I thought, wiping away a tear that I didn't remember approving.
And then in a moment of pure impulse, i grabbed my phone. My fingers trembled not from fear, but from sheer emotional chaos and I typed out the most gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching text I could master:
"Will you remember me if I die? I think I'm useless, not worth anything. Will you cry for me? I don't want to see the sun rise tomorrow. Will you forgive me for this?"
I hit send.
Immediately, reality slapped me in the face. "Oh no," I whispered, my stomach sinking faster than I would've fallen off that balcony. The immediate regret. "What have I done?" I gasped, realizing my friend was the absolute last person I should've sent that to. And, of course, she reacted exactly how I knew she would.
Her reply was instant. "Are you SERIOUS right now?! What is wrong with you???"
Her ego stepped in, full force. She wasn't having any of my tragic energy. Forget tragic, she was MAD. "You're being ridiculous!" she fired back. "You know how I feel about this stuffs! You can't just text me this crap and then pretend it's no big deal!" Her messages came in rapid fire, punctuated with capital letters, because of course, she wasn't about to let me have my Oscar-worthy moment in peace, was she?
"Wait, wait! I wasn't serious!" I tried to backtrack, stumbling over my own thoughts. "It was just a joke!" I lied. My dramatic flair crumbled under the weight of her rage. "Just a joke, I swear!" But we both knew the truth-I meant it, at some point. For a fleeting moment, I had been serious. But in that moment, I was just desperately trying to avoid World War III.
Fast forward to two years later, and here I sit, with a cup of tea, by the same balcony...I looked down at the ground and shook my head. "Really?" I thought, chuckling to myself. "What was I even thinking? I would have broken a leg or two at best, would have looked ridiculous for the next few weeks and maybe bruised my dignity- just a little. Wasn't that of a great exit plan, I must say" I took a long sip of my tea, enjoying the view. I had survived. No, scratch that-I had thrived. Turns out, the melodramatic exit I planned wasn't for me after all. I was meant to stick around, to face the chaos and make it to the triumphant sequel of my life. Giving up? Not my style. Not anymore.
As for that friend? Oh, we parted ways, of course. I couldn't really continue my Oscar-worthy saga with someone who didn't appreciate my dramatic flair 🤧 (just kidding but really). And in the end, I guess you could say I was the one who got away. "Cue the slow walk into the sunset," I thought, as I continued to sip my tea, ready for whatever plot twist life had in store for me. If life throws me another dramatic moment, well, I'm ready. And This story? Oh, it's far from over. I've got sequels, plot twists, and maybe even a spinoff in the works.
P. S: My life has always been a melodramatic comedy saga. And I have realized how toxic I was (still am, not proud though).
