Metamorphs

Dead or Dreaming

It’s so clear yet so vague. It’s so easy yet so hard. It’s so close yet so far. It’s so sweet yet so bitter. That’s life and she’s an enigmatic bitch.

I gulp, wetting my parch throat with saliva. Every step I take towards my point lessen the heaviness in my legs, the feel of thrill thrums throughout my body like the way the strings of an accordion thrums when caressed.

Dirt and dust tumble down and vanish through the air as I re-position myself at the ledge of the building. I loosen my tie, unclasp the first two buttons of my long-sleeves and look up at the blinding sun, ignoring the sharp poke of pain that it causes on my eyes.

I’m sick and tired of this hellhole, the monotonous tempo of life flowing unbroken, the vague and plain fabric of reality, the repetitive and vicious cycle of life and death. It’s like a song I’ve been forced to listen. It’s like a metronome I’ve been forced to watch. This has to end.

There has to be something more to life. Something more than, waking up in the morning, eat, bathe, go to class, eat, sleep, wake up, listen to your whiny classmates, listen to your inept teacher, listen to your parents who told you nothing but lies, listen to the pathetic excuses of your equally pathetic girlfriend, listen to people who did nothing but complain about their lives.

They have a choice; I have a choice and the difference? I am going to something about it rather than bitch around and feel sorry for myself.

The sun mercilessly beat down on me while sweat pour down my limbs. The scant wind that ruffles my brown hair occasionally, does nothing to relieve the uncomfortable heat. However I ignore it all, instead I look down and feel my knees wobble a little.

1,250 feet.

I am staring down from a 1, 250 feet building. And you know what’s peculiar? I don’t even feel scared, sure my knees are wobbling a bit but other than that, I feel nothing but pure exhilaration.

I inch a little, the instep of my black leather shoes clearing the edge of the building. I laugh and yell on top of my lungs, cursing this little sorry act called life. I took out my wallet and pull out a picture of my girlfriend and I smiling at the camera. I stare at myself wodering vaguely where that happy guy in the picture went or where the honest, innocent girl beside the guy went. I proceed to tear the picture into tiny little pieces and let it fall from my hands. Lies. Nothing but undeniable, irrevocable lies.

I look down again and inhale deeply.

I lift my right foot and let it dangle in the air. I’m a hairsbreadth to my salvation.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“You wanted to die so bad? Let me lend you a hand.”

I only have a moment to register what the voice says then I feel the soft prod in the middle of my spine that sends me tumbling down to oblivion. I twist my body to look at the person who pushed me but I only saw a wisp of white fluttering in the air.

“What-why? Who the fuck are you?”

I don’t know maybe it’s my imagination but I hear a distinct voice inside my head answers.

“Live.”

What? Nooooooooooooo! My brain screams. I didn’t really mean it! I just wanted-

I pause and look forward, my body ripping through air in an unprecedented speed. And all I could think about is…really…what do I want?

My harrowing descent seems to slow down as memories flash by inside my brain, my childhood and my teenage years. So it's true, your life flashes right before your eyes few seconds before the imminent show of death.

I look into my memories, they don’t look so bad to me, now that I am speeding like a bullet towards death’s cold embrace.

Nononononononono! I can’t die, please! I look forward again; the pavement is coming and coming closer to meet me. I am sorry I didn’t really mean it!

I just wanted…CHANGE.

I feel like something snap and pop inside my brain.

Every cell and molecules in my body seem to expand, my lungs feel like it’s going to explode, my skin feels like it’s being pulled in every direction, my eyes bulge out of my skull, my joints threaten to pop out of their sockets. It feels like my whole body might get rip apart.

Then it happens, the change I've been screaming, seconds before I splatter into the pavement like a blenderized lasagna.

I cease to be.

I vanish.

And I don’t know if I’m dead or dreaming.