Last Thoughts

When I looked down, the sight that met my eyes shocked me to my core. It was beautiful. Standing on top of the mountain, on the edge, with no form of any security or safety. The diversity of colors made me take a sharp intake of breath and I caught myself gaping at the scenery. The trees gave an aura of life. The greenery of the leaves and bushes down below made me feel like I was airborne. Like a bird. The multitude of flowers; white, yellow, purple, red. The birds and the butterflies fluttering around and the lake with rocks. My destination. It looked so peaceful. I didn't want to disturb it. Considering everything in my sight, I almost felt the place was alive. But no, my mind was made up. I was going to jump off this cliff. I had already written a note to my foster parents. It was too late to turn back now... right?  

It was 7 in the morning. The sun was still rising over the horizon. I could feel the rays slowly burn my back. I chose dawn to do this so I could at least see my last sunrise. My favorite time of the day. I always used to get up early in the morning just to see the sun rise to its full glory. I remember that once, when I was 5 years old, my mother, my real mother, caught me awake at dawn. I was up on the roof, smiling at the horizon. She sat down next to me and said, 'It's beautiful, isn't it?' I nodded and kept smiling. Then she said, 'You know, sometimes, angels come and watch over the people who watch the sunrise.' That was what I was thinking about in my last few moments. My mother. Who died because of a brain tumor 10 years ago, when I was a 7 year old boy. Was she watching me then? Wondering what I was doing? My dad followed. In a few months, he joined her. Over dose. Depression. And other things I was too young to understand then.

My life took a drastic change in its course. My grandparents took me in, but soon decided to send me to a foster family because they couldn't afford to keep a young boy. My foster family was good to me. I didn't blame them for what I was about to do. I blamed the school. I was known as the 'Orphan' and bullied. Bullied to such an extent that it drove me mad. Drove me here. I started believing it was my fault my parents died. I didn't tell anyone about how I was feeling. Not my family or the few friends I had made. I went online to look for methods on how to deal with depression and came across the term 'self harm.' I was aware of what it was but I did it anyway. I mean, who cares, right? And let me tell you, there is a certain satisfaction in inflicting pain on yourself. Like you're punishing yourself for something.

But yes, I was done with it. With everything; life, people, emotions, feelings. It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. But that is not a weakness. That is life. And for me, life without my parents didn't feel like a life worth living.  I wanted to be with them. I didn't care how or if that was even possible. But I was willing to take the risk. I read a book once, which I will quote now, 'Life is a book, and there are a thousand pages I have not yet read.'  And I couldn't agree more. But at that time, and that moment, I just didn't care.

My last thought? Humanity is on the vertical part of the S-curve. It is completely unsustainable. One more person gone from the world won't matter.