I stand there upon the building looking down at my fate. In this final standing I think about why I’m even up here; why out of all these other options I could have gone with this seemed like the only one. But something in the back of my head is too scared to go on anymore; the fear that life will not change and how everything is just pointless, and all for this I do not cry. For some reason, for how sad I am, my tears won’t fall. This only served to make me more pitiful with my life. It was at that thought that I leaned over the edge and fell to my fate.
As I was falling, time seemed rather nonexistent. It’s like when you start to believe that time doesn't matter anymore, it slows. It was probably a few minutes to impact but to me it was a like a day or two, and in these fake days it gave me time to think about how long will it take for anyone to notice I’m gone. Will anyone cry for me? Will they come see me?
All these questions filled to the top of my head until one stuck: how long will it take for me to be forgotten? I don’t know why this one was the center of my thought but it’s true, no matter how much I hate it. It’s just a common factor that I will be forgotten by everyone. I know I will be remembered time to time by loved ones but soon they will forget and the gaps between being remembered will become too great. As I fell closer to the ground something happened. All my worry, all my sorrow disappeared. It was like the wind that was running through my hair was pushing all my pain away. It was the first time in a long while I truly felt… at peace.