Maybe I Can Fly [Completed]

Part Five

I hesitated before I spoke, "Maybe you should reconsider." But she quickly snapped her head up to look at me. She seemed baffled and confused, asking why with her eyes as opposed to her mouth.

"I don't know how you feel, like you don't know how I feel, but I think maybe you should... live?" I voiced hesitantly.

"What the hell gives you that idea?" She looked at the lines the headlights made in the streets again, her expression hardening.

"Faith, I want you to look at me. To really look at me. The things that happen to us, the things we go through, they are not our fault. We're people, Faith. We're humans. We build ourselves up and we tear ourselves apart. But that's just something we do. Because what happens is we let the things that we go through control us, when in reality we're the ones in control. Our experiences are not us. Our mistakes aren't us. What people do to us does not make us who we are. The thing about people is that we're so stuck in the past, so stuck in grief that we can't erase, that we don't let ourselves have a future sometimes.

"What happened to you was sickening, and the way you dealt with that burden was tragic. It felt like your only way out, this feels like your only way out, but it's not. It's really not. This seems overdone and clichéd, this seems like something everyone will say, but you have something to live for. And sometimes, that something to live for is something you don't even know exists right now. Sometimes, sometimes you do need to wait things out. Sometimes you need- you need to hold on. Sometimes instead of quitting because it's bad, you need to wait in case it might get better. In case there's a silver lining. Because I promise you, I see one for you."

"That's a lotta talk from someone who would jump the second I leave."

"I just don't see anything going for me," I answered, my chest tightening at the truthfulness of my words. I didn't see a future for myself; I didn't see a way out of this. Everything just seemed so dark all the time, like this storm cloud was constantly closing in on me, like I was falling into an abyss that was composed solely of my thoughts that were slowly consuming me. The sad truth is, your brain, your mind, it can slowly but surely kill you if you let it.

"So you're a hypocrite then?" she said bluntly.

"We're all just suicidal kids trying to convince other suicidal kids that suicide isn't the answer, aren't we?" I answered hopefully, pleading that she would just leave it. I wanted to save her; I wanted her to live. I needed to die.

"But what about you? I know you're eating yourself up inside; I know you think there was something, anything, you could have done, even though your logical mind says there wasn't. You wish you could have done more for her, you wish you could talk to her one last time, now don't you?"

I shook my head yes, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping that it would hold back my emotions. She continued.

"There was nothing you could do. It was an accident. A freak accident."

"My head knows that but my heart won't accept it. I just wish I was a better kid, you know? Wish I could've told her some things before she died."

"Like what?"

"Like how much I love her, or how I wish I could have made her proud, or how I appreciate her so much. I didn't even get to come out to her."

She looked at me, surprised, and asked the million dollar question: woah, wait. You're gay? I smiled in response. People always reacted like that. I guess I didn't have a high voice and great fashion sense and that fooled them. Gets them every time.

"You can't tell?"

She laughed, the first real laugh I'd heard from her all night. "Not really. Is that another reason you wanna die?"

I was honest with her when I answered. It wasn't. It was the one thing that I didn't hate about myself. That it took me time to come to terms with it, like everyone, but it was one thing that I could cling to. That it, ironically, made me feel safe.

"That's good. Hold onto that. And I know you miss her. But I don't think that the people we love are ever really gone, you know? Remember what I said about the rain? Maybe, maybe you should try talking to her when it's raining. Maybe it'll help when you miss her." I shook my head, "I don't know, really."

"So the rules apply to me, and not to you?"

The rules apply to you because you still have a chance.

"Why do you care?" I countered, echoing her question from before.

"I don't." But her eyes said she did.

I didn't answer back. It was an awkward silence, but I found comfort in the fact that it meant that I didn't have to speak anymore. I didn't wanna reply to her questions, and I didn't wanna be talked out of jumping. I just wanted to do one good thing before I was gone. I wanted someone to even have the slightest possibility of remembering me in a good way, not as the boy who hit rock bottom after his mom died.

And I also truly believed she had a chance. What she went to was revolting, but it genuinely something that wasn't her fault. A victim should never be blamed for the thing that was done to them. Because she never asked for any of this. And I thought that once she healed, with a little help and a little time, she could be something. Because every time we overcome the demons dragging us down, we get a little stronger, we fight a little harder, and we smile a little brighter.

It's too bad that my demons drowned me before I drowned them.

I picked up the alcohol from beside me on the roof, ready to take another drink. The bottle was knocked out of my hand, however, before I could even taste the liquor. I watched as it landed on the gravel beside us, the contents bleeding out across the gravel. "What the fuck, man?"

I glared at her dark figure through the sinister night.

"Don't drink that. You'll get dizzy and fall, or you'll develop mush for brains and I don't wanna talk to someone who thinks that the world is made of cotton candy."

I mumbled a cuss word, but either she didn't hear or she chose not to. I shook my head, referring to her practically empty pack. "Lemme try one of your fucking cancer sticks."

"What happened to those things can kill ya?"

"I'm gonna die anyway, now gimme."

She rolled her eyes and handed me a Marlboro and her lighter. I struggled with the lighter this time out of frustration from the spilling of my expensive alcohol that was currently being enjoyed by the concrete. When I finally got it lit up, I tried to take a drag, but failed, coughing up a storm. I gagged a little as Faith watched, laughing, obviously amused. I coughed out a weak 'fuck you' before trying to get the taste out of my mouth. I smashed the tip of the cigarette to the ledge, putting it out, before throwing it at her. "What the hell, man, that shit tastes awful."

"Well you get used to it, I guess. Feeling dizzy?"

"What; no? Should I be?" I said weakly.

"I don't know, I guess when I first started I felt a little dizzy when I was smoking. You probably didn't have enough. I liked that dizziness, you know? It was the thing that got me hooked. I guess I just didn't wanna have to think. But it kinda went away. I've been hoping it'll come back ever since. Now I just smoke because it calms me down."

I gagged a little more, trying to see if it would make her laugh again. It did, luckily. "I still say that shit is disgusting."

"I kinda agree. I don't know. I've been wanting to quit for a while now, honestly. It's just hard."

"Well then maybe quitting can be your first step to recovery," I pointed out hopefully.

"Why are you so certain I wanna recover in the first place?"

"Because you haven't jumped yet."