It's my birthday today, not like it mattered. I've never celebrated my birthday before, there's nothing to celebrate about it, my parents didn't even want me to be born... I guess its fine since I didn't wanna be born either.
I thought about drowning myself in water, or jumping off a high building or even jumping off a high bridge and then drown in the water. Why haven't I done it yet? Why haven't I killed myself yet? Nobody wants me here, and I don't wanna be here either. Why am I still here?
Why am I still here?
Is it because I feel like there's something more in my life then just this? I've been telling myself that for years, nothings gonna change. Should I just do it? Should I just end it all?
I was still laying in the sand, I couldn't go back home after that- can I still even call it a home? every time that happens I leave for a day and then come back like it was all normal and nothing happened, my parents acted like that too. The only time my parents talk to me is when they're angry at me for some reason, other than that they just pretend like I'm not there, like I don't exist. I don't wanna exist, no one wants me to exist, another reason on why I should kill myself.
My limbs were numb from all the pain, the bruises still bright purple. I can't feel anything, I can't even move. I lay still for a moment, letting the sound of the waves wash over me, their rhythm a distant comfort. The salty air fills my lungs, but it does little to soothe the ache in my heart. Last night echoes in my mind: voices raised in anger, the sharp crack of a hand against flesh, the overwhelming weight of despair that drove me out into the night.
I finally muster the strength to push myself up, wincing as I shift my body against the rough sand. My arms feel heavy, each bruise throbbing as I move. The light is blinding, but it doesn't compare to the darkness I left behind. I glance at my reflection in the water—my eyes are bloodshot, shadows lingering beneath them like remnants of a nightmare.
The beach, with its endless horizon, should feel like freedom, but the memories cling to me like the grains of sand. I remember the sharp words, the threats, the moments when I felt more like a ghost in my own home than a son. I had to get out—running until the darkness of night enveloped me, leading me here, where I thought I could find peace.
But now, in the harsh morning light, I feel exposed and vulnerable. I take a deep breath, trying to ground myself, but the effort sends a spike of pain through my ribs. Each breath is a reminder of my fragility, the way they made me feel small and powerless.
I focus on the waves, the way they crash and recede, their relentless cycle a comfort in this moment. I need to stand, to reclaim my sense of self. I dig my fingers into the sand, finding the strength to push myself up once more. It's harder than it should be, and I feel tears well up, but I blink them away.
With one final effort, I rise to my knees, then to my feet, swaying slightly as the world spins. I look out at the ocean, its vastness stretching beyond what I can see. There's a freedom there, a possibility that I can escape the weight of my past- but the only way to do that is just to end it all.
I take a tentative step forward, feeling the cool water lap at my toes, grounding me in this moment. The waves come and go, just like the pain.
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I climbed up the stairs, panting as I held onto the railing. I had finally made it up the building stairs, I pushed open the door to enter the top of the building, as the door swings shut behind me, the sound fades, replaced by the distant hum of traffic and the soft rustle of leaves.
The wind tugs at my hair as I stand at the edge of the rooftop, the city sprawling below me. The clouds hang low, a blanket of gray that softens the sunlight filtering through. It's an odd mix—dim yet hopeful, the light casting a gentle glow over everything.
What a nice day to kill myself.
I walk closer and closer to the edge, my breathing getting heavier and heavier at each step. I was finally gonna do it, I was finally gonna be free from all this pain and suffering. I looked up at the sky, it was beautiful. It would be such a nice scene to paint, but I couldn't- it was going to be my last day. Maybe I could paint this scene in heaven- if I even go there.
I walked closer and closer, until half of my feet were off the building. I took a deep breath, my heart racing as I shut my eyes tight. I was about to jump until I felt something grab me from behind, making me fall backwards. I opened my eyes to see what happened, I looked up to see myself... laying on top of someone's legs. It was a guy, my head was on his lap while he looked down on me.
He looked like an angel.
Had he come down from heaven just to save me?
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