Daydreamer and slightly superstitious💭

The city lights shined across the dim sky - the stars barely visible. Most of the lights from the rooms I could see from where I was were dark or dimly lit, but I knew that people were still watching. My hands were shaking, my eyes scanning my little folded paper. I ran my fingers along the worn out edges, feeling the indents in the paper where my pen had pressed too deeply. It had struck 2 AM and I could feel my eyes burning. My black pen tapped the desk repeatedly, and my eyes were scanning the room warily.

The thought had crossed my mind before, but never so dominantly, never so powerfully, possessively. I thought of how everything would be if I actually went through with it. I thought of everyone’s reactions: my parents, my friends, the rest of my family, my teachers. Their anger surged through my mind. But do I care? I thought to myself. No. My hands released the pen from my fingers, and the sound of it hitting the table echoed through my ears. 2:04. I heard the silence. Do it. “I can’t,” I whispered back, my voice heavy with dread and guilt. But you want to. “I know.”

My mind wandered to what it was that got me thinking about doing it in the first place, but it blanked. Thump, thump, thump. Compared to the silence, the sound of my heart beating seemed to go on for miles. I’m going to do it. But how can I? My fists clenched violently, and I could feel the long nails digging into my bare skin. My eyes were closed. They’d be so mad at me. I unclenched my right hand, and brushed it over the skin of my left arm, moving up and down gently. I smiled. It’s decided. This is gonna be the day I die.

My hands moved to my mouse and the keyboard, opening up the familiar page. Click, click, click. The familiar words entered my mind. BE QUIET! I shouted to myself. They’ll wake up if you’re any louder than this. My eyes ran over the messages, seeing how they came to be, seeing how I came to be. Did you really think that no one would find out? “I was hoping that they wouldn’t.” Oh, but they did. They all did. And that’s why they can’t look at you now. I held myself back from slamming the table, and I could feel the pain in my jaw from my teeth being clenched. “I get it.” What kind of sick, twisted person would EVER consider doing what you did? No one would though. No one would; that’s the thing.

“No…” My barely audible voice trailed off. I felt a drop of water fall from my face, making its way down my cheeks, and into my mouth. The tears tasted salty in my mouth, and I closed my eyes to let myself feel it.

“I really have to,” I said to myself. “No more waiting.” I turned my computer off, rushed to grab my jacket, and shoved my worn out paper into my pocket. My footsteps thumped on the wood floor, and I flinched, hoping they hadn’t heard. Be careful. Be quiet. They can still hear you. They’ll wake up. They’ll wake up. I reached the door, shut it behind me,and started running towards the stairs I knew were hidden at the end of the corridor.

My hands reached the familiar door, and opened it, revealing the staircase behind it. There was dust all over it - a mark of the months of abandonment since it had been used. My feet moved quickly up the eight flights of stairs, and then finally I was standing in front of my desired location - the roof. The only thing holding me back from reaching it was the door that was right in front of it, which I opened without hesitance.

The smell enveloped me as always, a little like cinnamon mixed with money. I took in everything that I saw - the beautiful view, the cobwebs growing in the corners, the cement below me, and the wind blowing. I ran my hands over the letters carved into the wooden door, now barely noticeable and faint - the letters he had shown to me so many months ago, before any of this began. This was the roof that started everything, the very roof that cause the rumors about me to start. It’s time. “It’s been time.” I said back to the impatient voice inside my head. I could feel my throat tightening, and my breaths were getting ragged and heavy. It was getting harder to breathe, and the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. My vision was blurring, and I gasped, trying to find the strength to fight for the air to breathe, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t fight it. I couldn’t turn off the malevolent voices inside my head, and I tried to fight, but I was so tired of fighting, and I had given into my emotions a long time ago. I had given up on myself a long time ago. This was long overdue. Now is the time. The voice came back, but I couldn’t keep myself from crying hysterically. I opened my mouth and screamed at the top of my lungs, only to be blocked out by the loudness of the city below.

When the tears stopped, I collapsed on the floor and pulled at my hair. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?” I screamed, dejected. “WHY ME?”

Because you deserve it. “No.” My voice was small compared to the forceful voice inside my head. You did what you did. “No!” I cried again, desperately, refusing to accept it. What are you waiting for?

The truth was I didn’t know. I wanted the pain to stop. I was always waiting for the pain to end, to see the light at the end of the tunnel - the light that never came. “And it never will,” I said, succumbing to the demons inside me. My eyes felt glassy and they reflected everything I saw. I felt empty and numb. My feet shuffled closer to the edge. I was about to look over when I heard the sound of a door opening and closing.

“Late nights, huh?” His booming voice startled me.

I couldn’t face him, so I just nodded. “Quiet,” I managed.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” I waited until I heard the door close, until the sound of his heavy footsteps disappeared along with him down the stairs. The tears came again. Stop crying. You’ll never be able to do it if you don’t stop crying. And you NEED to do it. Everyone would be so much better off. “But-.” Didn’t you see their reactions when they saw the cuts? They hate you. They won’t care. “You’re right.” Don’t be pathetic.

My feet stepped up onto the ledge, and then suddenly, there was nothing between and the protruding darkness that awaited below. “This is what I want,” I convinced myself. “I want to die.” I stepped forward another step, and then another, and then another, and I kept going until I was only a few inches from the edge. I kept going until I knew for sure that the next few steps I was taking would be the last ones, and then I sat down. 2:45. My feet were dangling dangerously over the roof, and I felt the adrenaline rushing through me. I reached my hands into my pocket and felt the corners of the neatly folded letter, and then I pulled it out.

My hands unfolded the letter, and I read it over one last time, making sure there was nothing else I wanted to say, making sure there was no one else that I needed to address. There wasn’t. I ran my hands across the places where my tears had smeared the ink, the words almost undecipherable, and then I closed my eyes, and I let myself feel everything one last time. Then, I shoved the letter back into my pocket and stood up. I breathed in and out heavily, my breaths creating white, puffy clouds in the night sky. My cheeks were frozen, but I could still feel the cuts on my arms stinging, now drenched with tears. The flesh was raw and red, and I could see how deep the cuts were. My hands traced over them, thinking of how each mark slowly started appearing. There were bumps where I had cut myself, and running my fingers along all of them felt like a tiny man jumping over a couple dozen hills. The scars would be there forever; they were etched into my skin permanently, like a tattoo or a Sharpie on a piece of paper. The thought of the permanence comforted me, and I let it embrace me like a mother to her newborn son.

The air was cold and my jacket was not enough to keep my entire body warm. I could feel the goosebumps forming on my arms, and the fear thinking about how the police officers would find me.

What’s gonna happen once I hit the floor? I hadn’t thought about that before. Would I still be all in one piece or would the fall dismember me or… I wonder how much blood there would be, how long it would take before they find my note.

I couldn’t think about it anymore. I couldn’t deal with the thoughts inside of my head. All I needed was to be saved, really. No one could do that though. That’s how I ended up having to save the rest of the world from me, by doing this. I laughed bitterly. “The people who are meant to care most end up being the death of you. How ironic is that?”

I got rid of all remaining thoughts. All that mattered right now was me, and the safe ground below me. I could almost feel it, the security that it held, and the warmth. I could feel the darkness closing in, and how fast everything would be. I won’t even feel it. This is the best way to go. I thought.

It’s sad though, really. It is. Had I not been so naive, none of this would’ve even had to happen. My friends wouldn’t have turned on me. My family wouldn’t be suffering. My brother wouldn’t have had to learn about such twisted things at such a young age. I exposed him to the darkness. What kind of person does that?

I could see it now. I could see it clearly, my arms flailing aimlessly in the air for a few seconds, the happiness I would feel, and then nothing. There would be nothing but darkness. Maybe passersby would scream, maybe stop to take a picture before telling anyone. I could see my body reaching the floor in an instant, and then time slowing down just right before my body hits the floor, now a lifeless bag of bones.

I would have time to take in everything before me one last time before it all disappeared in the next millisecond. I’d smell the cement, wet and sticky from the rain, and hear the sound of the cars driving by each other, in a rush to get wherever they’re going. I would see the lights above me, the lampposts shining directly in my eyes. I could feel my hair flying wildly, in the opposite direction of the wind. I could hear every bone in my body cracking and breaking, hitting the cement all at once, and I could almost smell blood that would flow from my body right after. The thoughts invaded my mind, clouding them. For a long time, they had scared me. Starting from the first time the thought of suiciding entered my mind up until now, standing above hundreds of thousands of people just out of my reach, it scared me. 2:50.

I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. No one was going to care that I was gone and that hurt me more than I liked to admit. It was hard to think about. I didn’t want to give my life away, but I was doing it for the better of people that I cared about - people who would never feel the same, people who outcast me, shunned me.

There was nothing stopping me from free falling through the sky. It’s time now. “It’s time.” I said aloud. I turned my back to the ground and then I closed my eyes and prepared for the fall. So what’s our last sentence going to be? I shook my head, smiling. “I don’t know,” I paused for about ten seconds. “But you know, there’s something beautiful about dying young. You’re frozen. People remember you exactly how you were for the rest of their lives. Because you’re not changing anymore. Everything is just set in stone. Everything after is just left up to their imagination. You know what I mean?” Of course I do. I’m you. I laughed lightly. “Debatable.”

So what’s our last sentence? The voice repeated. I ignored it this time, dusting the dirt off of my pants and my hands. “Alright, let’s go.” The fear crept up inside of me again and the feelings of guilt felt heavy in my chest, but I didn’t let them phase me. My mind was set. This is happening now.

“It is funny though,” I said to the voice. What is? “All I needed was for someone to let me know they cared about me. Maybe then I would’ve stayed.” But no one does. “No, you’re right. No one does.” I grit my teeth trying to hold back the tears. “The reason I held off for so long was because I wanted someone to come along. Someone to give me hope,” I continued. “But that’s all gone now.” I swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat.

“I needed someone to save me, and that’s stupid because people usually shouldn’t need or depend on others to save them or be there for them, but I do, okay? I did.” In the end, all you have is yourself. The faster you learn that the better. “Yeah, but what do you do when you don’t want yourself?” Silence. “It’s alright. I don’t have an answer for it either.” I stared blankly for a while, and then, “Thank you.” For what? “You’re all I have.” Are you ready now? “I’m ready,” I replied back, my eyes welling up with tears. “Lots of them cared though, you know? But it was never enough for me. And I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry for this.”

I moved my hand up to brush the hair out of my eyes, and the tears from my face. The wind was roaming wildly against me, and I could feel it pushing me in the opposite direction of the welcoming ground. My hair was flying in a dozen different directions, carelessly, recklessly. I reached into my pocket for the last time, making sure that everything I needed to be able to go through with this was right there with me. It was. My right foot picked up off the ledge, ready to step back and free fall into the ground. Good, keep going. I put my foot down, half of it dangling off, and the other placed firmly onto the solid ground. My other foot was placed about six inches above it, and I knew that picking it up would mean there was no going back. I hesitated. This is what I want. This is what I’ve wanted. 2:54.

I let myself feel the freezing air, maybe thirty degrees. My jacket was wrapped warmly around me, containing the paper that meant everything to me. I breathed in and out for the last time, then held my breath. My right hand was clenched and placed across my heart, and I tried to feel the heartbeat that seemed to have been so loud just about an hour ago. I couldn’t feel the pulse. My hand moved up to my clavicle, and then frantically searched for a sign of life. 2:55. When I found it, I smiled to myself, and the thoughts of my friends and family flashed through my mind. My heart rate was increasing by the second. 2:56. I spread my arms, and then took the final step.

I felt myself falling back, and my eyes were closed. Images of my baby brother passed through my mind, and memories that I thought were forgotten resurfaced. My hair was sticking to my face like a magnet, and the wind surged across my face. My hand was stuffed in my pocket, hoping that maybe if I hit the ground and my hand was still there, the police would find my note sooner. I could feel the voice inside me creeping up. You’re welcome.

“NO!” I heard the shout, my eyes opening instantly to look at its origin. I was falling. My mouth opened a little, and a small sound came out.

“Wh-.”

He grabbed one arm, and then the other, and suddenly, below me were cars, lights, people, streets, windows, shops. I saw the city from above, but I was no longer falling. He’d caught me, and in just a matter of seconds, he was pulling me back onto the flooring of the roof, safe from death, safe from the voice. He’d pulled me down, and wrapped a blanket around me, and the only thing that I could hear was the sound of my hiccups, through my sobs.

“I WANTED TO DIE!” I shouted at him. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS.” My fists pounded at his chest. “WHY DID YOU DO THIS?”

He calmed me down and explained to me how he knew someone was up here, why he was up here. “This isn’t the way to go,” he said. “People aren’t meant to die young.”

“I wasn’t doing it for me.”

“No. You were doing it because something inside of you, something you’re afraid of, told you to. You did it because you didn’t want to fight. You didn’t want to try.” He wrapped a blanket around me, noticing my shivering. When he was done, I stared at him hatefully, loathingly, and reached into my pocket. My hands felt the note once again, and I threw it at him. “Read it,” I said coldly. “Maybe then you’ll understand.”

He reached for the note, and nodded slightly. “This isn’t meant for me.” 3:03.

I almost believed him. I almost let him comfort me, and I almost gave in. But then my mind flashed back to how I was treated. I thought of how no one would miss me. So I stared at him. “How did you know I was up here?”

He explained to me. He told me about all the signs I was showing of depression, and all the things I would say that left him suspicious. He told me about how he saw my arms that one day that I ran my fingers over the cuts, and how my eyes were bright, but sad and hollow at the same time. He told me that he understood and that he was once where I was, but the man on the roof stopped him from jumping, and said that he knew someone would be up here when he heard the footsteps echoing through the hallway. “I get it.” His voice came out soothing, and soft. 3:20. “I know why you want to, and I know you have reasons to, but I want you to see all the reasons why you can’t do this.” I could hear the tremors in his voice.

“You understand?” I asked, a little surprised.

He nodded. “I do.”

I smiled. “Then you’ll understand why I have to do this. You’ll understand why I want to.” I broke free of his hold. “I’m sorry.” I took a step away from him, and turned my back to him. “I’m really really sorry, Aiden. But I can’t do this anymore.” I took another step.

“Please.” He called out, almost desperately. I could hear the pain in his voice, the guilt and the desperation. 

I turned back to look at him one last time, and for one short second, I almost wanted to run into his arms and forget about everything that happened between us. I wanted to run my hands through his hair, and feel his lips pressed against mine in the cold, night sky and I wanted to feel his safe arms around me like they would never let go, like I wasn’t alone. But I couldn’t break out of my mindset. I couldn’t stop myself, not even for my family, not even for him. I couldn’t try anymore. “I love you, Aiden. I really do.” My voice was barely a whisper. I took a huge breath, feeling the pain in my chest heavily increase, and the lump in my throat form. My eyes were stinging now. 3:30. “I love you more than anything, but I can’t take this anymore. I can’t take… me anymore, I guess.” I turned my back to him once again and stepped further.

The sound of him slowly getting up reached my ears, but I stayed turned around. His hand found mine, and he pressed his lips lightly against my cheek. “Will this make you happy?”

I shook my head and smiled sadly. “No. It’ll make everyone else happy.” I brushed my thumb over his cheek. “Trust me.” I stepped even further, and suddenly it felt like there was nothing holding me back from the ground below. Now. The voice plagued my mind, screaming for me to listen, begging for me to listen. “I really do love you,” I said one last time. 3:41.

The city lights shined across the dim sky - the stars barely visible. Most of the lights from the rooms I could see from where I was were dark or dimly lit, but I knew that people were still watching. My hands were shaking, my eyes scanning my little folded paper. I ran my fingers along the worn out edges, feeling the indents in the paper where my pen had pressed too deeply. It had struck 2 AM and I could feel my eyes burning. My black pen tapped the desk repeatedly, and my eyes were scanning the room warily.

The thought had crossed my mind before, but never so dominantly, never so powerfully, possessively. I thought of how everything would be if I actually went through with it. I thought of everyone’s reactions: my parents, my friends, the rest of my family, my teachers. Their anger surged through my mind. But do I care? I thought to myself. No. My hands released the pen from my fingers, and the sound of it hitting the table echoed through my ears. 2:04. I heard the silence. Do it. “I can’t,” I whispered back, my voice heavy with dread and guilt. But you want to. “I know.”

My mind wandered to what it was that got me thinking about doing it in the first place, but it blanked. Thump, thump, thump. Compared to the silence, the sound of my heart beating seemed to go on for miles. I’m going to do it. But how can I? My fists clenched violently, and I could feel the long nails digging into my bare skin. My eyes were closed. They’d be so mad at me. I unclenched my right hand, and brushed it over the skin of my left arm, moving up and down gently. I smiled. It’s decided. This is gonna be the day I die.

My hands moved to my mouse and the keyboard, opening up the familiar page. Click, click, click. The familiar words entered my mind. BE QUIET! I shouted to myself. They’ll wake up if you’re any louder than this. My eyes ran over the messages, seeing how they came to be, seeing how I came to be. Did you really think that no one would find out? “I was hoping that they wouldn’t.” Oh, but they did. They all did. And that’s why they can’t look at you now. I held myself back from slamming the table, and I could feel the pain in my jaw from my teeth being clenched. “I get it.” What kind of sick, twisted person would EVER consider doing what you did? No one would though. No one would; that’s the thing.

“No…” My barely audible voice trailed off. I felt a drop of water fall from my face, making its way down my cheeks, and into my mouth. The tears tasted salty in my mouth, and I closed my eyes to let myself feel it.

“I really have to,” I said to myself. “No more waiting.” I turned my computer off, rushed to grab my jacket, and shoved my worn out paper into my pocket. My footsteps thumped on the wood floor, and I flinched, hoping they hadn’t heard. Be careful. Be quiet. They can still hear you. They’ll wake up. They’ll wake up. I reached the door, shut it behind me,and started running towards the stairs I knew were hidden at the end of the corridor.

My hands reached the familiar door, and opened it, revealing the staircase behind it. There was dust all over it - a mark of the months of abandonment since it had been used. My feet moved quickly up the eight flights of stairs, and then finally I was standing in front of my desired location - the roof. The only thing holding me back from reaching it was the door that was right in front of it, which I opened without hesitance.

The smell enveloped me as always, a little like cinnamon mixed with money. I took in everything that I saw - the beautiful view, the cobwebs growing in the corners, the cement below me, and the wind blowing. I ran my hands over the letters carved into the wooden door, now barely noticeable and faint - the letters he had shown to me so many months ago, before any of this began. This was the roof that started everything, the very roof that cause the rumors about me to start. It’s time. “It’s been time.” I said back to the impatient voice inside my head. I could feel my throat tightening, and my breaths were getting ragged and heavy. It was getting harder to breathe, and the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. My vision was blurring, and I gasped, trying to find the strength to fight for the air to breathe, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t fight it. I couldn’t turn off the malevolent voices inside my head, and I tried to fight, but I was so tired of fighting, and I had given into my emotions a long time ago. I had given up on myself a long time ago. This was long overdue. Now is the time. The voice came back, but I couldn’t keep myself from crying hysterically. I opened my mouth and screamed at the top of my lungs, only to be blocked out by the loudness of the city below.

When the tears stopped, I collapsed on the floor and pulled at my hair. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?” I screamed, dejected. “WHY ME?”

Because you deserve it. “No.” My voice was small compared to the forceful voice inside my head. You did what you did. “No!” I cried again, desperately, refusing to accept it. What are you waiting for?

The truth was I didn’t know. I wanted the pain to stop. I was always waiting for the pain to end, to see the light at the end of the tunnel - the light that never came. “And it never will,” I said, succumbing to the demons inside me. My eyes felt glassy and they reflected everything I saw. I felt empty and numb. My feet shuffled closer to the edge. I was about to look over when I heard the sound of a door opening and closing.

“Late nights, huh?” His booming voice startled me.

I couldn’t face him, so I just nodded. “Quiet,” I managed.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” I waited until I heard the door close, until the sound of his heavy footsteps disappeared along with him down the stairs. The tears came again. Stop crying. You’ll never be able to do it if you don’t stop crying. And you NEED to do it. Everyone would be so much better off. “But-.” Didn’t you see their reactions when they saw the cuts? They hate you. They won’t care. “You’re right.” Don’t be pathetic.

My feet stepped up onto the ledge, and then suddenly, there was nothing between and the protruding darkness that awaited below. “This is what I want,” I convinced myself. “I want to die.” I stepped forward another step, and then another, and then another, and I kept going until I was only a few inches from the edge. I kept going until I knew for sure that the next few steps I was taking would be the last ones, and then I sat down. 2:45. My feet were dangling dangerously over the roof, and I felt the adrenaline rushing through me. I reached my hands into my pocket and felt the corners of the neatly folded letter, and then I pulled it out.

My hands unfolded the letter, and I read it over one last time, making sure there was nothing else I wanted to say, making sure there was no one else that I needed to address. There wasn’t. I ran my hands across the places where my tears had smeared the ink, the words almost undecipherable, and then I closed my eyes, and I let myself feel everything one last time. Then, I shoved the letter back into my pocket and stood up. I breathed in and out heavily, my breaths creating white, puffy clouds in the night sky. My cheeks were frozen, but I could still feel the cuts on my arms stinging, now drenched with tears. The flesh was raw and red, and I could see how deep the cuts were. My hands traced over them, thinking of how each mark slowly started appearing. There were bumps where I had cut myself, and running my fingers along all of them felt like a tiny man jumping over a couple dozen hills. The scars would be there forever; they were etched into my skin permanently, like a tattoo or a Sharpie on a piece of paper. The thought of the permanence comforted me, and I let it embrace me like a mother to her newborn son.

The air was cold and my jacket was not enough to keep my entire body warm. I could feel the goosebumps forming on my arms, and the fear thinking about how the police officers would find me.

What’s gonna happen once I hit the floor? I hadn’t thought about that before. Would I still be all in one piece or would the fall dismember me or… I wonder how much blood there would be, how long it would take before they find my note.

I couldn’t think about it anymore. I couldn’t deal with the thoughts inside of my head. All I needed was to be saved, really. No one could do that though. That’s how I ended up having to save the rest of the world from me, by doing this. I laughed bitterly. “The people who are meant to care most end up being the death of you. How ironic is that?”

I got rid of all remaining thoughts. All that mattered right now was me, and the safe ground below me. I could almost feel it, the security that it held, and the warmth. I could feel the darkness closing in, and how fast everything would be. I won’t even feel it. This is the best way to go. I thought.

It’s sad though, really. It is. Had I not been so naive, none of this would’ve even had to happen. My friends wouldn’t have turned on me. My family wouldn’t be suffering. My brother wouldn’t have had to learn about such twisted things at such a young age. I exposed him to the darkness. What kind of person does that?

I could see it now. I could see it clearly, my arms flailing aimlessly in the air for a few seconds, the happiness I would feel, and then nothing. There would be nothing but darkness. Maybe passersby would scream, maybe stop to take a picture before telling anyone. I could see my body reaching the floor in an instant, and then time slowing down just right before my body hits the floor, now a lifeless bag of bones.

I would have time to take in everything before me one last time before it all disappeared in the next millisecond. I’d smell the cement, wet and sticky from the rain, and hear the sound of the cars driving by each other, in a rush to get wherever they’re going. I would see the lights above me, the lampposts shining directly in my eyes. I could feel my hair flying wildly, in the opposite direction of the wind. I could hear every bone in my body cracking and breaking, hitting the cement all at once, and I could almost smell blood that would flow from my body right after. The thoughts invaded my mind, clouding them. For a long time, they had scared me. Starting from the first time the thought of suiciding entered my mind up until now, standing above hundreds of thousands of people just out of my reach, it scared me. 2:50.

I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. No one was going to care that I was gone and that hurt me more than I liked to admit. It was hard to think about. I didn’t want to give my life away, but I was doing it for the better of people that I cared about - people who would never feel the same, people who outcast me, shunned me.

There was nothing stopping me from free falling through the sky. It’s time now. “It’s time.” I said aloud. I turned my back to the ground and then I closed my eyes and prepared for the fall. So what’s our last sentence going to be? I shook my head, smiling. “I don’t know,” I paused for about ten seconds. “But you know, there’s something beautiful about dying young. You’re frozen. People remember you exactly how you were for the rest of their lives. Because you’re not changing anymore. Everything is just set in stone. Everything after is just left up to their imagination. You know what I mean?” Of course I do. I’m you. I laughed lightly. “Debatable.”

So what’s our last sentence? The voice repeated. I ignored it this time, dusting the dirt off of my pants and my hands. “Alright, let’s go.” The fear crept up inside of me again and the feelings of guilt felt heavy in my chest, but I didn’t let them phase me. My mind was set. This is happening now.

“It is funny though,” I said to the voice. What is? “All I needed was for someone to let me know they cared about me. Maybe then I would’ve stayed.” But no one does. “No, you’re right. No one does.” I grit my teeth trying to hold back the tears. “The reason I held off for so long was because I wanted someone to come along. Someone to give me hope,” I continued. “But that’s all gone now.” I swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat.

“I needed someone to save me, and that’s stupid because people usually shouldn’t need or depend on others to save them or be there for them, but I do, okay? I did.” In the end, all you have is yourself. The faster you learn that the better. “Yeah, but what do you do when you don’t want yourself?” Silence. “It’s alright. I don’t have an answer for it either.” I stared blankly for a while, and then, “Thank you.” For what? “You’re all I have.” Are you ready now? “I’m ready,” I replied back, my eyes welling up with tears. “Lots of them cared though, you know? But it was never enough for me. And I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry for this.”

I moved my hand up to brush the hair out of my eyes, and the tears from my face. The wind was roaming wildly against me, and I could feel it pushing me in the opposite direction of the welcoming ground. My hair was flying in a dozen different directions, carelessly, recklessly. I reached into my pocket for the last time, making sure that everything I needed to be able to go through with this was right there with me. It was. My right foot picked up off the ledge, ready to step back and free fall into the ground. Good, keep going. I put my foot down, half of it dangling off, and the other placed firmly onto the solid ground. My other foot was placed about six inches above it, and I knew that picking it up would mean there was no going back. I hesitated. This is what I want. This is what I’ve wanted. 2:54.

I let myself feel the freezing air, maybe thirty degrees. My jacket was wrapped warmly around me, containing the paper that meant everything to me. I breathed in and out for the last time, then held my breath. My right hand was clenched and placed across my heart, and I tried to feel the heartbeat that seemed to have been so loud just about an hour ago. I couldn’t feel the pulse. My hand moved up to my clavicle, and then frantically searched for a sign of life. 2:55. When I found it, I smiled to myself, and the thoughts of my friends and family flashed through my mind. My heart rate was increasing by the second. 2:56. I spread my arms, and then took the final step.

I felt myself falling back, and my eyes were closed. Images of my baby brother passed through my mind, and memories that I thought were forgotten resurfaced. My hair was sticking to my face like a magnet, and the wind surged across my face. My hand was stuffed in my pocket, hoping that maybe if I hit the ground and my hand was still there, the police would find my note sooner. I could feel the voice inside me creeping up. You’re welcome.

“NO!” I heard the shout, my eyes opening instantly to look at its origin. I was falling. My mouth opened a little, and a small sound came out.

“Wh-.”

He grabbed one arm, and then the other, and suddenly, below me were cars, lights, people, streets, windows, shops. I saw the city from above, but I was no longer falling. He’d caught me, and in just a matter of seconds, he was pulling me back onto the flooring of the roof, safe from death, safe from the voice. He’d pulled me down, and wrapped a blanket around me, and the only thing that I could hear was the sound of my hiccups, through my sobs.

“I WANTED TO DIE!” I shouted at him. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS.” My fists pounded at his chest. “WHY DID YOU DO THIS?”

He calmed me down and explained to me how he knew someone was up here, why he was up here. “This isn’t the way to go,” he said. “People aren’t meant to die young.”

“I wasn’t doing it for me.”

“No. You were doing it because something inside of you, something you’re afraid of, told you to. You did it because you didn’t want to fight. You didn’t want to try.” He wrapped a blanket around me, noticing my shivering. When he was done, I stared at him hatefully, loathingly, and reached into my pocket. My hands felt the note once again, and I threw it at him. “Read it,” I said coldly. “Maybe then you’ll understand.”

He reached for the note, and nodded slightly. “This isn’t meant for me.” 3:03.

I almost believed him. I almost let him comfort me, and I almost gave in. But then my mind flashed back to how I was treated. I thought of how no one would miss me. So I stared at him. “How did you know I was up here?”

He explained to me. He told me about all the signs I was showing of depression, and all the things I would say that left him suspicious. He told me about how he saw my arms that one day that I ran my fingers over the cuts, and how my eyes were bright, but sad and hollow at the same time. He told me that he understood and that he was once where I was, but the man on the roof stopped him from jumping, and said that he knew someone would be up here when he heard the footsteps echoing through the hallway. “I get it.” His voice came out soothing, and soft. 3:20. “I know why you want to, and I know you have reasons to, but I want you to see all the reasons why you can’t do this.” I could hear the tremors in his voice.

“You understand?” I asked, a little surprised.

He nodded. “I do.”

I smiled. “Then you’ll understand why I have to do this. You’ll understand why I want to.” I broke free of his hold. “I’m sorry.” I took a step away from him, and turned my back to him. “I’m really really sorry, Aiden. But I can’t do this anymore.” I took another step.

“Please.” He called out, almost desperately. I could hear the pain in his voice, the guilt and the desperation. 

I turned back to look at him one last time, and for one short second, I almost wanted to run into his arms and forget about everything that happened between us. I wanted to run my hands through his hair, and feel his lips pressed against mine in the cold, night sky and I wanted to feel his safe arms around me like they would never let go, like I wasn’t alone. But I couldn’t break out of my mindset. I couldn’t stop myself, not even for my family, not even for him. I couldn’t try anymore. “I love you, Aiden. I really do.” My voice was barely a whisper. I took a huge breath, feeling the pain in my chest heavily increase, and the lump in my throat form. My eyes were stinging now. 3:30. “I love you more than anything, but I can’t take this anymore. I can’t take… me anymore, I guess.” I turned my back to him once again and stepped further.

The sound of him slowly getting up reached my ears, but I stayed turned around. His hand found mine, and he pressed his lips lightly against my cheek. “Will this make you happy?”

I shook my head and smiled sadly. “No. It’ll make everyone else happy.” I brushed my thumb over his cheek. “Trust me.” I stepped even further, and suddenly it felt like there was nothing holding me back from the ground below. Now. The voice plagued my mind, screaming for me to listen, begging for me to listen. “I really do love you,” I said one last time. 3:41.

The city lights shined across the dim sky - the stars barely visible. Most of the lights from the rooms I could see from where I was were dark or dimly lit, but I knew that people were still watching. My hands were shaking, my eyes scanning my little folded paper. I ran my fingers along the worn out edges, feeling the indents in the paper where my pen had pressed too deeply. It had struck 2 AM and I could feel my eyes burning. My black pen tapped the desk repeatedly, and my eyes were scanning the room warily.

The thought had crossed my mind before, but never so dominantly, never so powerfully, possessively. I thought of how everything would be if I actually went through with it. I thought of everyone’s reactions: my parents, my friends, the rest of my family, my teachers. Their anger surged through my mind. But do I care? I thought to myself. No. My hands released the pen from my fingers, and the sound of it hitting the table echoed through my ears. 2:04. I heard the silence. Do it. “I can’t,” I whispered back, my voice heavy with dread and guilt. But you want to. “I know.”

My mind wandered to what it was that got me thinking about doing it in the first place, but it blanked. Thump, thump, thump. Compared to the silence, the sound of my heart beating seemed to go on for miles. I’m going to do it. But how can I? My fists clenched violently, and I could feel the long nails digging into my bare skin. My eyes were closed. They’d be so mad at me. I unclenched my right hand, and brushed it over the skin of my left arm, moving up and down gently. I smiled. It’s decided. This is gonna be the day I die.

My hands moved to my mouse and the keyboard, opening up the familiar page. Click, click, click. The familiar words entered my mind. BE QUIET! I shouted to myself. They’ll wake up if you’re any louder than this. My eyes ran over the messages, seeing how they came to be, seeing how I came to be. Did you really think that no one would find out? “I was hoping that they wouldn’t.” Oh, but they did. They all did. And that’s why they can’t look at you now. I held myself back from slamming the table, and I could feel the pain in my jaw from my teeth being clenched. “I get it.” What kind of sick, twisted person would EVER consider doing what you did? No one would though. No one would; that’s the thing.

“No…” My barely audible voice trailed off. I felt a drop of water fall from my face, making its way down my cheeks, and into my mouth. The tears tasted salty in my mouth, and I closed my eyes to let myself feel it.

“I really have to,” I said to myself. “No more waiting.” I turned my computer off, rushed to grab my jacket, and shoved my worn out paper into my pocket. My footsteps thumped on the wood floor, and I flinched, hoping they hadn’t heard. Be careful. Be quiet. They can still hear you. They’ll wake up. They’ll wake up. I reached the door, shut it behind me,and started running towards the stairs I knew were hidden at the end of the corridor.

My hands reached the familiar door, and opened it, revealing the staircase behind it. There was dust all over it - a mark of the months of abandonment since it had been used. My feet moved quickly up the eight flights of stairs, and then finally I was standing in front of my desired location - the roof. The only thing holding me back from reaching it was the door that was right in front of it, which I opened without hesitance.

The smell enveloped me as always, a little like cinnamon mixed with money. I took in everything that I saw - the beautiful view, the cobwebs growing in the corners, the cement below me, and the wind blowing. I ran my hands over the letters carved into the wooden door, now barely noticeable and faint - the letters he had shown to me so many months ago, before any of this began. This was the roof that started everything, the very roof that cause the rumors about me to start. It’s time. “It’s been time.” I said back to the impatient voice inside my head. I could feel my throat tightening, and my breaths were getting ragged and heavy. It was getting harder to breathe, and the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. My vision was blurring, and I gasped, trying to find the strength to fight for the air to breathe, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t fight it. I couldn’t turn off the malevolent voices inside my head, and I tried to fight, but I was so tired of fighting, and I had given into my emotions a long time ago. I had given up on myself a long time ago. This was long overdue. Now is the time. The voice came back, but I couldn’t keep myself from crying hysterically. I opened my mouth and screamed at the top of my lungs, only to be blocked out by the loudness of the city below.

When the tears stopped, I collapsed on the floor and pulled at my hair. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?” I screamed, dejected. “WHY ME?”

Because you deserve it. “No.” My voice was small compared to the forceful voice inside my head. You did what you did. “No!” I cried again, desperately, refusing to accept it. What are you waiting for?

The truth was I didn’t know. I wanted the pain to stop. I was always waiting for the pain to end, to see the light at the end of the tunnel - the light that never came. “And it never will,” I said, succumbing to the demons inside me. My eyes felt glassy and they reflected everything I saw. I felt empty and numb. My feet shuffled closer to the edge. I was about to look over when I heard the sound of a door opening and closing.

“Late nights, huh?” His booming voice startled me.

I couldn’t face him, so I just nodded. “Quiet,” I managed.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” I waited until I heard the door close, until the sound of his heavy footsteps disappeared along with him down the stairs. The tears came again. Stop crying. You’ll never be able to do it if you don’t stop crying. And you NEED to do it. Everyone would be so much better off. “But-.” Didn’t you see their reactions when they saw the cuts? They hate you. They won’t care. “You’re right.” Don’t be pathetic.

My feet stepped up onto the ledge, and then suddenly, there was nothing between and the protruding darkness that awaited below. “This is what I want,” I convinced myself. “I want to die.” I stepped forward another step, and then another, and then another, and I kept going until I was only a few inches from the edge. I kept going until I knew for sure that the next few steps I was taking would be the last ones, and then I sat down. 2:45. My feet were dangling dangerously over the roof, and I felt the adrenaline rushing through me. I reached my hands into my pocket and felt the corners of the neatly folded letter, and then I pulled it out.

My hands unfolded the letter, and I read it over one last time, making sure there was nothing else I wanted to say, making sure there was no one else that I needed to address. There wasn’t. I ran my hands across the places where my tears had smeared the ink, the words almost undecipherable, and then I closed my eyes, and I let myself feel everything one last time. Then, I shoved the letter back into my pocket and stood up. I breathed in and out heavily, my breaths creating white, puffy clouds in the night sky. My cheeks were frozen, but I could still feel the cuts on my arms stinging, now drenched with tears. The flesh was raw and red, and I could see how deep the cuts were. My hands traced over them, thinking of how each mark slowly started appearing. There were bumps where I had cut myself, and running my fingers along all of them felt like a tiny man jumping over a couple dozen hills. The scars would be there forever; they were etched into my skin permanently, like a tattoo or a Sharpie on a piece of paper. The thought of the permanence comforted me, and I let it embrace me like a mother to her newborn son.

The air was cold and my jacket was not enough to keep my entire body warm. I could feel the goosebumps forming on my arms, and the fear thinking about how the police officers would find me.

What’s gonna happen once I hit the floor? I hadn’t thought about that before. Would I still be all in one piece or would the fall dismember me or… I wonder how much blood there would be, how long it would take before they find my note.

I couldn’t think about it anymore. I couldn’t deal with the thoughts inside of my head. All I needed was to be saved, really. No one could do that though. That’s how I ended up having to save the rest of the world from me, by doing this. I laughed bitterly. “The people who are meant to care most end up being the death of you. How ironic is that?”

I got rid of all remaining thoughts. All that mattered right now was me, and the safe ground below me. I could almost feel it, the security that it held, and the warmth. I could feel the darkness closing in, and how fast everything would be. I won’t even feel it. This is the best way to go. I thought.

It’s sad though, really. It is. Had I not been so naive, none of this would’ve even had to happen. My friends wouldn’t have turned on me. My family wouldn’t be suffering. My brother wouldn’t have had to learn about such twisted things at such a young age. I exposed him to the darkness. What kind of person does that?

I could see it now. I could see it clearly, my arms flailing aimlessly in the air for a few seconds, the happiness I would feel, and then nothing. There would be nothing but darkness. Maybe passersby would scream, maybe stop to take a picture before telling anyone. I could see my body reaching the floor in an instant, and then time slowing down just right before my body hits the floor, now a lifeless bag of bones.

I would have time to take in everything before me one last time before it all disappeared in the next millisecond. I’d smell the cement, wet and sticky from the rain, and hear the sound of the cars driving by each other, in a rush to get wherever they’re going. I would see the lights above me, the lampposts shining directly in my eyes. I could feel my hair flying wildly, in the opposite direction of the wind. I could hear every bone in my body cracking and breaking, hitting the cement all at once, and I could almost smell blood that would flow from my body right after. The thoughts invaded my mind, clouding them. For a long time, they had scared me. Starting from the first time the thought of suiciding entered my mind up until now, standing above hundreds of thousands of people just out of my reach, it scared me. 2:50.

I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. No one was going to care that I was gone and that hurt me more than I liked to admit. It was hard to think about. I didn’t want to give my life away, but I was doing it for the better of people that I cared about - people who would never feel the same, people who outcast me, shunned me.

There was nothing stopping me from free falling through the sky. It’s time now. “It’s time.” I said aloud. I turned my back to the ground and then I closed my eyes and prepared for the fall. So what’s our last sentence going to be? I shook my head, smiling. “I don’t know,” I paused for about ten seconds. “But you know, there’s something beautiful about dying young. You’re frozen. People remember you exactly how you were for the rest of their lives. Because you’re not changing anymore. Everything is just set in stone. Everything after is just left up to their imagination. You know what I mean?” Of course I do. I’m you. I laughed lightly. “Debatable.”

So what’s our last sentence? The voice repeated. I ignored it this time, dusting the dirt off of my pants and my hands. “Alright, let’s go.” The fear crept up inside of me again and the feelings of guilt felt heavy in my chest, but I didn’t let them phase me. My mind was set. This is happening now.

“It is funny though,” I said to the voice. What is? “All I needed was for someone to let me know they cared about me. Maybe then I would’ve stayed.” But no one does. “No, you’re right. No one does.” I grit my teeth trying to hold back the tears. “The reason I held off for so long was because I wanted someone to come along. Someone to give me hope,” I continued. “But that’s all gone now.” I swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat.

“I needed someone to save me, and that’s stupid because people usually shouldn’t need or depend on others to save them or be there for them, but I do, okay? I did.” In the end, all you have is yourself. The faster you learn that the better. “Yeah, but what do you do when you don’t want yourself?” Silence. “It’s alright. I don’t have an answer for it either.” I stared blankly for a while, and then, “Thank you.” For what? “You’re all I have.” Are you ready now? “I’m ready,” I replied back, my eyes welling up with tears. “Lots of them cared though, you know? But it was never enough for me. And I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry for this.”

I moved my hand up to brush the hair out of my eyes, and the tears from my face. The wind was roaming wildly against me, and I could feel it pushing me in the opposite direction of the welcoming ground. My hair was flying in a dozen different directions, carelessly, recklessly. I reached into my pocket for the last time, making sure that everything I needed to be able to go through with this was right there with me. It was. My right foot picked up off the ledge, ready to step back and free fall into the ground. Good, keep going. I put my foot down, half of it dangling off, and the other placed firmly onto the solid ground. My other foot was placed about six inches above it, and I knew that picking it up would mean there was no going back. I hesitated. This is what I want. This is what I’ve wanted. 2:54.

I let myself feel the freezing air, maybe thirty degrees. My jacket was wrapped warmly around me, containing the paper that meant everything to me. I breathed in and out for the last time, then held my breath. My right hand was clenched and placed across my heart, and I tried to feel the heartbeat that seemed to have been so loud just about an hour ago. I couldn’t feel the pulse. My hand moved up to my clavicle, and then frantically searched for a sign of life. 2:55. When I found it, I smiled to myself, and the thoughts of my friends and family flashed through my mind. My heart rate was increasing by the second. 2:56. I spread my arms, and then took the final step.

I felt myself falling back, and my eyes were closed. Images of my baby brother passed through my mind, and memories that I thought were forgotten resurfaced. My hair was sticking to my face like a magnet, and the wind surged across my face. My hand was stuffed in my pocket, hoping that maybe if I hit the ground and my hand was still there, the police would find my note sooner. I could feel the voice inside me creeping up. You’re welcome.

“NO!” I heard the shout, my eyes opening instantly to look at its origin. I was falling. My mouth opened a little, and a small sound came out.

“Wh-.”

He grabbed one arm, and then the other, and suddenly, below me were cars, lights, people, streets, windows, shops. I saw the city from above, but I was no longer falling. He’d caught me, and in just a matter of seconds, he was pulling me back onto the flooring of the roof, safe from death, safe from the voice. He’d pulled me down, and wrapped a blanket around me, and the only thing that I could hear was the sound of my hiccups, through my sobs.

“I WANTED TO DIE!” I shouted at him. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS.” My fists pounded at his chest. “WHY DID YOU DO THIS?”

He calmed me down and explained to me how he knew someone was up here, why he was up here. “This isn’t the way to go,” he said. “People aren’t meant to die young.”

“I wasn’t doing it for me.”

“No. You were doing it because something inside of you, something you’re afraid of, told you to. You did it because you didn’t want to fight. You didn’t want to try.” He wrapped a blanket around me, noticing my shivering. When he was done, I stared at him hatefully, loathingly, and reached into my pocket. My hands felt the note once again, and I threw it at him. “Read it,” I said coldly. “Maybe then you’ll understand.”

He reached for the note, and nodded slightly. “This isn’t meant for me.” 3:03.

I almost believed him. I almost let him comfort me, and I almost gave in. But then my mind flashed back to how I was treated. I thought of how no one would miss me. So I stared at him. “How did you know I was up here?”

He explained to me. He told me about all the signs I was showing of depression, and all the things I would say that left him suspicious. He told me about how he saw my arms that one day that I ran my fingers over the cuts, and how my eyes were bright, but sad and hollow at the same time. He told me that he understood and that he was once where I was, but the man on the roof stopped him from jumping, and said that he knew someone would be up here when he heard the footsteps echoing through the hallway. “I get it.” His voice came out soothing, and soft. 3:20. “I know why you want to, and I know you have reasons to, but I want you to see all the reasons why you can’t do this.” I could hear the tremors in his voice.

“You understand?” I asked, a little surprised.

He nodded. “I do.”

I smiled. “Then you’ll understand why I have to do this. You’ll understand why I want to.” I broke free of his hold. “I’m sorry.” I took a step away from him, and turned my back to him. “I’m really really sorry, Aiden. But I can’t do this anymore.” I took another step.

“Please.” He called out, almost desperately. I could hear the pain in his voice, the guilt and the desperation. 

I turned back to look at him one last time, and for one short second, I almost wanted to run into his arms and forget about everything that happened between us. I wanted to run my hands through his hair, and feel his lips pressed against mine in the cold, night sky and I wanted to feel his safe arms around me like they would never let go, like I wasn’t alone. But I couldn’t break out of my mindset. I couldn’t stop myself, not even for my family, not even for him. I couldn’t try anymore. “I love you, Aiden. I really do.” My voice was barely a whisper. I took a huge breath, feeling the pain in my chest heavily increase, and the lump in my throat form. My eyes were stinging now. 3:30. “I love you more than anything, but I can’t take this anymore. I can’t take… me anymore, I guess.” I turned my back to him once again and stepped further.

The sound of him slowly getting up reached my ears, but I stayed turned around. His hand found mine, and he pressed his lips lightly against my cheek. “Will this make you happy?”

I shook my head and smiled sadly. “No. It’ll make everyone else happy.” I brushed my thumb over his cheek. “Trust me.” I stepped even further, and suddenly it felt like there was nothing holding me back from the ground below. Now. The voice plagued my mind, screaming for me to listen, begging for me to listen. “I really do love you,” I said one last time. 3:41.