This is it. The perfect moment.
The music is blaring but muted in my ears, my slow yet steady strides leading me to the stairs. My gown flowing behind me, I felt like an angel. Angels have wings, right?
They can fly, right?
My mother used to call me an angel. But I'm not flying. Broken wings and glitter tears, I'm drowning. I feel light yet weighed down. Hopeful yet completely numb. Shining yet dull.
The stairs lead to the roof. My heals click clack to the edge and I take them off, placing them down with a smile on my face.
This is it.
If I'm an angel, I can fly. I close my eyes, feeling nothing but the chilly evening breeze and my heartbeat.
"Angels can fly." I whispered words no one would ever hear,
and jump.
Finally, I am at peace.
YOU ARE READING
Me.
DiversosI don't write in this book to get attention. I do NOT do it for pity. I don't care what you comment in this book specifically. I just write in it to get things off my chest and clear my mind.
