☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ
This is just a simple story, just a small scene about me, myself, and how I cope.
-Tomorrow, I Shall-
They knew what to do, they knew very well what was needed to be done if they wanted to end whatever it is that stops them from trying.
But it's a busy night, maybe tomorrow.
They loved themselves. Despite everything, they loved themselves. Despite being rough and messy, they loved their hair. Despite being chapped and dark from caffeine, they loved their lips. Despite the dark circles and eyebags, they loved their pair of dark coloured eyes. Despite not having tidy, shining white teeth, they loved their wide smiles.
It was 20.52, the sun has set. And it's quite dark, but not really. The city lights have eliminated darkness. Most of the darkness.
Their feet were dangling from the edge of the tall building. 'Any moment now.'
But it's a busy night. Maybe tomorrow.
They stood up and walked away, back home. Wherever that is.
'I want to go bungee jumping.'
'I want to walk that glass bridge.'
'I want to go rock climbing.'
Their friend once asked why so suddenly.
'Adrenaline.'
Suicide is a sin, and they already had enough of those. Hell isn't a joke.
That is why
every night
they dance on the edge of the skyscraper
admiring the city
they thought they'd love
admiring the height
imagining their life flashing across
their mind
as they inch closer
and closer
against the concrete.
'But I don't want to scare anybody.'
They won't.
'Huh, but it's a busy night. Maybe tomorrow.'
Every night, feet dangling from the edge, lowly humming La Vie En Rose, knowing that a simple push or a little shift would be all that is necessary to end it all.
But no.
They swallowed the lump in their throat.
Maybe one day, or maybe never. But tonight is a busy night, maybe tomorrow.
'Maybe tomorrow?'
Yes.
Maybe tomorrow.
