Mismatched

Falling

I took a deep breath as I looked off the roof of the building. Marching up here was the easy part, stepping over the edge took a little bit more. I peered down at the street, taking a moment to examine the bustle of city life below me. No one seemed to notice me up here, but with all the noise and commotion of a city, who would blame them. People dressed much nicer than I was crowded the sidewalks, and cars sped passed letting out unpleasant clouds of exhaust.

Angry wind reflected how I was feeling. Stray hairs whipped my face, my tear stained cheeks stung. Dark gray clouds moved in quickly from the east. I watched people rush out of the changing weather. I didn't resent the oncoming storm, infact, I welcomed it. It almost felt as though the sky was prepare to mourn for me.

I pulled myself up and stood on the raised edge of the building; back to the street. I didn't want to see the ground approach when I jumped. Thirty-something stories separated me from the street below. A fall from just two stories could be enough to hospitalize you. Hopefully, this would be enough to do the trick.

I told myself It would be just like skydiving or bungee jumping, all I'd have to do is step over the edge and everything would be okay. With that thought, I swallowed hard and stepped back into the empty space behind me. Air rushed past me as I fell, gaining more and more speed. Mentally, I reread the note I had written to my parents and muttered my final goodbyes.

Only it wasn't like skydiving or bungee jumping. I didn't have a parachute or a strong elastic chord to bring me to safety. I had gravity; strong, steady and constant. In that moment, I also had an eerie calm about myself, because I knew I was finally free.

And lastly, I had myself. Falling, and hitting the ground.