The Typical Insanity

F R E E F A L L I N G

(This is literally just a past time for me but I have a lotta love for this one story so, thank you for reading! ^-^)

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It's not worth it. I tell myself these four words as my feet pace a ledge. It is not worth it. It isn't worth it. The words reverberate through my body and I feel nothing but those words. At this point, I've said them so much I managed to forget why I was saying them. Is it because wasting my life isn't worth the loss of another? Perhaps it's because the presence of my existence is not worth atonement and I must pay further penance.

I sound like a preacher. A dumb preacher using big words to sound cool.

The thought makes my numb lips turn up into a smile and I step away from the ledge. There's a sort of adrenaline still coursing through me, is this why suicide tempts people? Is this how they feel when they're a step away from letting it all go? My feet are bobbing to an unknown beat and my eyes can't stop shifting to observe every part of the abandoned rooftop. I feel like I'm searching for something but that's impossible. Besides, something out there's probably looking for me. All the more reason to jump but I don't want to do it. My life, my stupid waste of a life on Earth is nothing, it's trivial but I don't want to end it. I've done nothing to signify my time on Earth and yet I'm a selfish man who wants to continue living when another lies dead in the trunk of a car. It's ironic how one petty, useless man is allowed to live but the other with a life filled with luck, chance and opportunity must die. No, it's not ironic, I'm sorry, it's unfair.

A colder breeze passes me and I'm reminded of where I'm currently seated. Maybe I should come back on a warmer day, at least I'll fall in the warmth of the sun. But, then again, no one would bother picking up my body and I'd end up rotting on the sidewalk. I wanted to cry. I wanted to feel some murderous rage that could excuse my actions but there was none. All I had was guilt and I hated it. Ha, it felt as though I would've been killed by my guilt before I reach the concrete ground 20 storeys below me. I hadn't realized it but I had already lifted my knees to my chin as I slowly rocked myself, rocking myself into some empty void where there were no people, only me.

There is someone beside me. How did I not notice someone entering the rooftop? My rocking stopped but I didn't budge from my position instead I glanced at the figure. He was tall, dark and blurry. But no face. I turned to appraise the person better but all I saw was a dark shadow in place of a face. I did want to say something but I didn't have anything to say. Why would he tell me who he is if we were strangers? And it's not like this was a private rooftop, anyone could come and go as they please. What would I say?

"What are you fretting about, Moe?" the voice was muffled, unnaturally low pitched and strangely comforting.

"My name's not Moe."

"Would you rather debate the merits of a nickname or would you rather answer the question?"

"I wouldn't do either of that. The first is stupid and I don't want to answer the other because there is nothing bothering me."

"Why lie when you can speak the truth?"

"You don't just tell a stranger anything and that's what you are, a stranger."

"A stranger is simply a person whom one does not know or with whom one is not familiar. How are you so sure we are not familiar?"

How can a person make you feel at such ease? Hiding my face between my knees, I frowned. "We have never met before nor have I ever heard of someone like you so, we're strangers. Simple as that."

"Simple is hard, Moe. Why not start again and tell me what the matter is?"

I contemplated the question. "Why do I feel like you already know?"