Unstable || Prinxiety

Chapter 17

(Virgil's POV)

I had never considered myself suicidal. Not until now.

My eyes remained forced on the skyline as my hands gripped the railing on my balcony. My legs and arms tingled, stiff from the long period of disuse. I must have been out here for hours. Maybe something deep inside wanted someone to find me; something that refused to believe that I was, indeed, suicidal. I slumped my arms, leaning against the rails and watching the horizon. "Just wait until the sun sets," I told myself, "you can do it then. Or are you afraid?"

Was I being a coward? Probably. It was in my nature. I just... never expected that I'd be suicidal.

I could see the sun sinking -- it was unavoidable. My eyes followed it intently as if they were hoping that merely looking at it would cause the sun the remain stranded on the horizon. I watched with an unwavering gaze as threads of red and orange struggled to overcome the dark of night, and prayed with all my might that the light and skyline would forever be intertwined. For a moment, I saw it, sky awash and ablaze with brilliant vibrant colours - pure beauty. I painted the sun to memory as I watched, aware for the first time of the brilliance and tranquility that the setting sun offered. I knew that when the dark came, it would only intensify my pain, so I tried to commit the sun to memory. The pain I felt now was nothing compared to the pain that the bleakness of night would bring. I hope it's quick. I dragged my eyes away from the view, willing myself to do... something. Something other than watch the night. I signed as I slumped further onto the railings, trying not to close my eyes, for if I closed my eyes, black would be overpowering, and I wanted my last view of this world to one of beauty, yet I now knew that was impossible.

So I looked down. I looked at the waves, that once would leave me enchanted for hours. The ocean itself was a mirror, in more ways than one. They were comforting and relatable in their familiarity, and for that reason, I knew that if I was going to go out, it would be at the hands of the waves. Yet the waves below me were terrifying. I'd never realized the dangerous strength that they had. I hope it's painless.

Why was I even hesitating anyway? What good had ever come of my life? The wind whipped at my hair as I lowered my body, now only holding the rails with one hand. I thought back on my life, trying to piece together all my most impacting memories. My happiest memory is from a time when I was merely 5, too young to know anything, to know of the harsh reality of life. That was before I was an outcast, before your emotion really grew. Before my anxiety held sway over me. From then on, my life was dominated by neverending anxiety attacks and taunts from my peers. When I made friends with my one and only friend Loneliness, my life did undoubtedly improve. However, he always had his shields up, and regardless of our long friendship, he never rested his guard around me. Yes, we were friends, but he still stuck to being lonely, wary. It was literally his personality. He never even told me his name, so how close could we even have been? You can't just rewrite someone's code. The physical embodiment of loneliness could never have proper friends, so who was I kidding. It was futile to rely on him to give my life the friendship and security it needs.

And then there was Roman. He had always been the absolute most popular of all the sides; an unlikely friend. He was the sort of person to be friends with many, yet not be too close to anyone. He was fake, in a way, and although he makes me happy now, he'll move on. Like he always does. There's something about me especially - no one wants to stay being my friend. He'll get bored of me sooner rather than later. So, like Loneliness, I can't rely on him for friendship, or anything more.

My hands seemed to relax as I took a deep breath. There was no good awaiting me in life. No excuses; it was now or never. If I jumped, there was no way that I'd ever be able to get out again. It was certain death, and no one would ever know. No one would be able to mourn me, no one would ever know. There wasn't anyone that cared anyway. I was, simply put, a burden. To everyone. Roman will be better off with me gone. Now all I need to do is let go. Of Loneliness, of Roman, of life.

Once it's done, it's done. There'll be no momentous ending, no regrets. I'll simply be gone. So I gritted my teeth and let my hand slip, waiting for impact. And did my life flash before my eyes?

No. I was just that unimportant.

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