A suicide note was considered, but who would read it? The police would have no way to contact the few friends I have scattered in this crowded city. The police themselves won't care what some teenage minds last words were. Running away from home nips the family ties, and there's nobody I'm leaving behind who really deserves an explanation anyway.
This event involves me and only me. No other souls need nor should be affected by my actions.
I hesitantly lifted my arms into the air from their previous state of being shoved into my pockets. Balancing on the edge, the tips of my shoes stood out over the fall. Feeling like a trapeze artist, I slowly began trace the outline of the roof with cautious footsteps. I made my way over and perched myself on the ice-felt ledge.
Letting out a deep sigh, I rustled my hair with my hands. Leaning over, I took in the sight of the microscopic graffiti soaked streets below me. Parallel and below from me was a record shop, next to it a tattoo parlor, then a bookstore, a small pharmacy, a bar, and as the block carried on westward, the buildings' habitats grew more chic and more polished.
The fallow and liver-toned worn- down 1940's, once upon a time banking office I'd chosen for this occasion was in an older, slightly rougher area of town, no longer in use due to a fire back in sixty-something. I picked it because I knew this would be an uninterrupted choice. After the fire, repairs were attempted, but because the company was already in the midst of relocating, all construction stopped, leaving a bold charcoal streak still to this day rushing up the building's east side, point being, no one has ever bought the building since, leaving it pretty much abandoned and completely out of interest for anyone besides me.
A new hotel had just opened up to the right of it; the city was making efforts to draw in tourists to its more "rustic" edges, solely for economic reasons. Selling on the vintage and authentic appeal, slowly more inviting places to stay and eat were making their way to the formerly more forgotten blocks. With opening week last month, and less than a third of the rooms sold to guests with wide-eyed astonished expressions, I guess one could say they still have some work to do. Perhaps they're the ones I should've left a suicide note for, maybe more of an apology letter? I doubt the death next door will be good for business.
The ground had now picked up a tune, serenading me to meet with a powerful plummet. It tempted with an enchantment I was finding hard to resist.
I stood and balanced atop the edge, taking in one last glance of the horizon before tightly shutting eyes. My hands were clenched into fists while I anxiously bobbed on the balls of my feet. Exhaling deeply, I released the tension in my hands.
I wasn't afraid; I was going to do this. Although every nerve in my body screamed for me to simply let myself fall, it was as if the air behind me was ever so slightly tugging me back. In a way, it seemed it were almost asking me not to leave so soon.
Furrowing my eyebrows in frustration, I shot my eyes back open. I couldn't go like this. What a mockery to leave in such a delicate way for such a destructive result. If I were going to die with force, I would leave with force. Stepping down off the ledge, I landed with a thud. I began to walk to the other side of the roof, and I continued until I was a good distance away from where I previously stood, a good, running distance away.
I wouldn't fall carelessly to death, but charge at it with passion. Leaning into a good start off position, my eyes concentrated on the line that broke apart the roof from the sky. Tilting my head up, eyes open, heart pounding, and adrenaline fueled, I ran.
