Dressed Up As Myself

Standing alone on the edge, the wind whispers through my hair, winding the strands together and tickling my ears, chilling my bones and making me feel more alive than ever before. My senses are heightened and I am acutely aware of the harsh rock beneath my feet, stable and unmoving, uncaring and unforgiving. My hands dangle at my side, tingling with cold. My arms feel as heavy as my heart as I stare off into the haze of early morning. The crashing of the waves below echo in the early morning air. Their angry pounding causes my throat to contract, making each breath an impossible task. The salty musk rises from the churning sea below. The scent is so strong I can nearly taste it. I can taste death. His fingers reach toward me and his inviting voice lulls me into a sleep-like trance. I smile as I prepare to take his hand.
Let go.
Be free.
Jump.