Little bird

Suddenly I was the in the center, between life and death.

It's funny how hard it is to get to the very tippy top of a building and how long it takes to get there, it's ironic how no one notices a thing other than you look a little too calm for your own good and it's terrifying to know that it only takes 8 seconds to get back to the front of the building where you entered, but hey, it's reality. You work hard and it takes time, but when you finally make it to the top, then what? You die. Slowly or quick, painful or painless, death is death and there is no way around or under it, I've accepted my fate, more earlier than others, but I like to be first at the finish line, even if it means the race to death. What I call a race is something a doctor would call suicidal. Call it what you will, judge as you please, soon I will be flying in the sky, heaven or hell, I will be free. I will be gone. I will be happy. Maybe they have a special place for people like me? Or maybe that's what hell is.