​The 23rd floor ( Trigger warning: Suicide)

The 23rd floor

Friday was going to be the best day. Especially because we were nowhere near any of the midterms or finals. Nobody would be studying and only a few people would be passing by the purposefully windy courtyards and walkways. Anyone around would be in the basement level using the rows of computers right below the coffee station. There was a lovely courtyard in the middle of the basement area with a few benches and trees. The few people that used it looked like specimens in a terrarium. Everyone who was in the library would be tidying up the school work for the week would be in the basement not where I was heading. I could be left alone to do what I set out to accomplish. Even though there were 26 full floors, the 23rd was the last one you could access because they never accounted for the weight of all the books. I would have to go there. I’m brave enough to plan this out but not brave enough to break onto the roof. I’d walked all 23 flights before; top to bottom and back down. Every single level had a mural in the rounded stairwell where one set of steps met the next. Some were classic examples of life before the Precambrian extinction and others abstract shapes. I took the elevator tonight even though I was searching for a reason to postpone. I always felt like it was “postpone” and never “call it quits” or “put it to rest”. I always thought about it like it was inevitable. Like it was something that was going to happen regardless of what I did. A phantasm or demon my ancestors struck a bargain with in the homeland that had finally come to collect after too many years without tribute. It would come to me in the end.

The south windows in the library face a small range of mountains although you could really consider them hills in the grand scheme of the world. Seven soft peaks all zigzagging prominently above the broad and lush river valley. They were formed in the Jurassic as one layer of basalt, a kind of magma that oozes out between continents deep in the ocean. Here it oozed over primordial swamps for miles, cooled, and was eventually uplifted as the mega continents broke apart. On one side you can still find the last viper den in the state belonging to woodland rattlesnakes. Its location was a mystery to the public and kept by the state biologists as a need-to-know fact. The opposite side held an assemblage of conifers that could survive the denial of sunlight by the tiny mountains’ shadow. I loved watching the sun bathe those mountains over the autumn foliage during the golden hours of the day in September. It was a good spot despite the bird shit on the window that no one could reach or even cared to clean.

I arrived at my desk that I chose for studying on that south side. I set my bag down and took out my laptop and book. I carefully leaned back in the chair fidgeting and ruminating. The heavy wooden chairs had two sleds instead of 4 legs. You couldn’t lean back too far without carefully accounting for the wedge cut out of the rear of each track on either side. You saw people wipe out and eat shit all the time. They were solid chairs and perfect for their constant use.

I was failing animal behavior. I needed to understand how honey bees communicated the location of flowers for my extra credit assignment. I needed to remember a feud between two scientists who devised a grand experiment to finally settle their dispute. They were both right and were simply playing out the role of ego driven academics vying for attention. It’s amazing how far instinct carries an animal. Each honey bee performs a lovely dance for its sisters for the good of them all. Look to the light and follow the scent of the lilac pollen jostled free through hardwired arrays of buzzing steps. Is this all there is to my own dance?

Well, there it is. The chair is heavy enough to break that shit stained window someone needs to clean. The glass won’t hit anyone because they’re out after a long week. I can aim for the courtyard in the basement because there won’t be anyone there. Plus, I gain an extra floor for my the inevitable outcome. Good night tiny mountains, vipers, stairway murals and honey bees. The weight of my shame is going to carry me away from fucking everything.

“Excuse me but the library closes in twenty minutes.” Postponed again.