Looking over the open valley beneath me, I catch my breath in my throat. The wind whirls, catching the corner of my coat, tugging like a child. I feel the dread snag in my chest.
”Jump,” a voice says. ”You’ll die, you know that right, boy?” I nod. I can feel my heart thumping against the back of my tongue. No fear settles here; this is simply the path I’ve chosen.
You knew you’d always want this, but why can’t you just do it? You have no interest in staying alive and no reason to live. Why do you even think about it so hard? You’ve wanted this for so damn long, and you feel it in every fiber of your being—itching and itching over the edge of the cliff.
”Jump. You have no one to stop you. You won’t be found for months, maybe even a year. Come on, jump, you pathetic urchin! You’re just a waste of breath. You don’t deserve the life you’ve lived.”
You feel your feet take off without you, like wheels catching fire. You rush the edge. You feel your heart race and your blood go colder than ice, and yet so hot that the fires of hell rush through your veins.
Bliss. That rush below your body. The brief period of light before your eyes. Dates, lovers, faces you think of just before the end of your short, pointless life. You know it’s for the best, but a sudden guilt rushes its icy, dead hands across your spine.
Numb. The numbness you’ve felt all too many times before—once from the world, now from your own eyes passing judgment. Your search for inner peace was the death of you. Not only a selfish and ill-bred attempt at life, but a pathetic attempt to find self-love.
submitted by /u/Historical_Offer2192
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