Brandon

Prologue

Brandon stood motionless, perfectly balanced as the wind tore through his hair and forced folds into his clothing. His cloths were typical. On his torso he wore a simple white button-up shirt, thoroughly creased due to multiple wearings without being properly ironed. Over said shirt hung a sloppily fixed tie with a checkered design, a personal favorite of Brandon's. He wore khakis, cheaply produced overseas with little to no durability. The pants were already worn out and tarnished around the ankles where they sat upon Brandon's shoes. It was as if Brandon had attempted to further deplete his chances at looking clean-cut. He did this by wearing the ratty sneakers he so frequently did. It seemed almost like he wasn't even attempting to appear worthy of anyone's attention or mind.

Now standing four hundred feet above the streets of New York City he was realizing that his pitiful appearance may have only been the starting block to a series of adverse and tolling events on his morale. He thought back to just a couple of hours ago in his apartment just floors below where he now stood. Waking from a telling dream of what he aspired to become but deep down knew he never would.

Waking up was always the hardest part of the day for Brandon. With each new dawning day came more problems, just another obstacle to hurdle. Day after day a constant blend of the same activities, no excitement and nothing to look forward to. Brandon was constantly questioning his reasoning for conquering these rising and settings of the lonely star in the daytime sky. He did it though, however solemnly every second of every year. The wind continued to tousle Brandon's hair as his brain pulsated with the reflections of his life. He couldn't seem to solve it. No matter how many times he stood on the ledge looking out onto the city skyline, taking in the lights he could never quite figure out the next move. Often he would come here on the brink of simply quitting, but he could never quite bring himself to do it. Tomorrow, he thought, there is always a chance that tomorrow will be the day. With this final thought he once again stepped away from where he was on the fringe of tossing away his own life.

As he made his way back to the buildings roof entrance his mind emptied, rarely did this occur and it was a sole moment to make observations of what the real world was. Not just the world that resided in his own mind where pieces were constantly being moved and reassembled for no conclusive results. His own world was always a dead end of shattered hopes and dreams, but the real world was different. This was not for simply what it contained, but also for how it seemed to mechanically worked how every piece interlocked unbroken as a system. Old pieces being steadily replaced but never removed or transformed. There was a sense of ease and reliability in the workings of what we call society.

Car horns and sirens blared above the roars of engines and the screeching of brakes as Brandon dwelled on these concepts. Thinking back to the first time he had felt so confused. When he had felt so lost about the concept of just being conscious. His first heart break. Looking back on it he really was given a scale of how long ago it was, being of twenty-five years of age, Freshman year of high school seemed like so long ago. Being such a memorable moment though, it had stuck with him. The relationship was not long lasting only a couple of months, not even a single kiss was shared, yet there was a much deeper connection between him and his partner. One that despite all of his subsequent actions he had been unable to replicate.

The pain of a heart break is one that not all experience in its purest form but when you do it is something you never forget. Whether you are fourteen or thirty-five it is a defining moment in ones life. That almost bursting pain when your chest feels as though it has been brought tightly into a knot. Tears streak down your face and everything seems to be wrong. Even after the initial break the feelings of emptiness and sorrow hang around you like a water logged cloak for weeks sometimes months to come and you are helpless to do anything about it. Knowing this, it is not a wonder to think why confusion ensues. Depression, ripe in such anguish, hurls you in to a pool of disorienting thoughts about the simplest of things, life.

Some may attempt to argue that fact. They consider life to be full of mysteries and secrets, things to discover and explore. Others are able to never even ask the questions that life has so readily provided and so to them life really is, simple. So why is this not the case for everyone. Why are there people so intent on solving these questions that are so frequently asked. Brandon thought, why are there so many puzzles to solve when we are provided with so little time.