Today, I stood on the edge of the roof of a building. It was only four stories- not high enough to project the worry of anyone passing by, but high enough that if I were to fall, it would kill me. And by the way I was sure to fall if I did, I knew, without a doubt, it would kill me, even if it had been one story, rather than the four I had been on. The rush to feel, as the adrenaline filled my veins, as if my body could sense how near to death it may be- though there were no plans of this in the immediate future.
It was early; society having not yet risen up to its normal rushing to and fro of its whereabouts- but yet, it was late. I, having not slept a wink, knew it as so. It was early in the morning as the night was late- and oh, how I did so love it.
Even as I stood, my mind racing with thoughts- thoughts of a tragic mishap- I still noticed the small cracks in the sidewalk and road. Each one holding a story, a past, to how it had become broken. If the roads and sidewalks had been people, I would see them as kindred spirits, much like myself. Society walked on us, used us, and we did nothing to fight back. When we became broken, no one noticed. We all held our stories that only others who had been broken, who were cracked and shattered, could see and understand, but the rest all bustled by to their busy days, full of life and never noticing how the rest of us crumbled beneath their feet.
I watched as someone, a woman wearing some sort of dress-suit, walked brusquely down the sidewalk, talking on her phone, carrying a briefcase and fiddling with the sleeve of her suit jacket. The sound of her heels clicking on the cement echoed in my ears like seconds ticking by, reminding me that I was here for a reason. The reason was not to relate myself to the broken concrete and asphalt below me or study the few people who were up this early or lateand running themselves ragged in the darkness.
I took a deep breath, stepping closer to the edge, recollecting my thoughts, and remembering who I was- the reason I had come up here in the first place.
Now was my chance to end it all. Now was my time- my turn to make a choice. No one else could interfere. No one else could take this choice from me. Even if someone were to notice me, if they were to even care, they couldn’t take this decision from me. Now was my opportunity to make things mine- and no one could change my decision.
Even as I thought over my options, I remembered the way people looked at me. They loathed the scars that lined my skin- and the cuts that decorated my body. They were disgusted and humiliated to be seen anywhere near me. They wouldn’t care if I was gone.
I then remembered those who would care, my family and friends- but they would be just as disgusted if they knew me. If they saw me for the beastly creature I truly was. But even beastly creature seemed too good to describe myself. I was nothing- god, I can’t think of something that accurately describes how awful I am. Perhaps my thoughts do not match with others’ but they did not know who I had actually become.
Below me, four identical, strange-looking men walked quickly down the sidewalk. One spoke softly into a blue tooth, seeming angered or perhaps annoyed. They turned and were out of my sights.
I stood still, both feet about a foot or so apart, arms tensely pressed to my sides and ending into tightly curled fists. My head was bowed slightly as I stared out into the darkness, disrupted every now and again by the street lamps lining the road.
I inched closer to the edge of the roof, the tips of my shoes no longer on the solid fixture. It would be easier to jump than it would be to stay in this world. I wasn’t even sure if this life was worth keeping anymore. Obviously it wouldn’t be if I decided to jump- I would land on my head, break my neck and die instantly. What a beautiful way to die. No dignity- of course that was already stripped away by the many people who had brought me to make this decision. The choice to live or to die. Maybe I could beat this- not. I would either win or die trying- the only problem was the choice. What if I decided to die trying? But even as I stared at a car gliding by on the road, I knew my decision and I knew it well. Today wasn’t the day. I took a step back and then another before I stumbled and fell back onto the roof beneath me. Safe, but still in danger. I stood up and brushed myself off, still deep in thought about the pros and cons of what I had contemplated only moments before.
I made my way down the stairs of the fire escape down the side of the building and stretching at the last level. I held on to the bottom rung of the ladder that was stuck out at the bottom, my feet not reaching the ground and my shirt riding up to reveal my scarred stomach. I landed on my feet with a dull, resounding thud. Bending my knees slightly as I landed and looking up, I saw a woman staring at me. She dressed in gray sweat pants and a black hoodie that remained unzipped over a pale blue tank top.
She carried a brown paper bag of what appeared to be groceries on her hip. She gasped as she saw me looking at her, her hand coming up to cover her mouth and the bag falling from her arms. Being as I stood a mere foot or so away from her, I quickly swooped and caught her bag.
I handed it back to her with a quick, short nod. She took it and stared at me in stunned silence. I didn’t blame her. Had I seen myself coming off of the fire escape, my shirt clearly revealing fresh cuts and old scars crossing my stomach in every direction, I would’ve reacted the same way, give or take the fearful stumbling back and running away or reaching out to help the person but only to pull away in disgust or fear- but only towards myself.
The woman only stared at me and made no move to say anything so I walked past her, only pausing to say a quiet line in her ear before disappearing into the darkness.
“Never trust anyone. They’ll kill you from the inside out- like swallowing poison- and once you’re dead, they’ll do it again.”
