I wrote down a list of pros and cons, as if the decision could be brought on by a piece of paper. I studied it hard, until my eyes grew weak. Until the words started meshing together. Until I realized that a freaking piece of paper wasn’t going to help me.

As I walked, my feet slowly grew heavier, my pace slowed, and my breathing became deeper. My life was slowly fading into the background, into the details that no one ever saw, or even really cared about. The bright, sunny, Wednesday morning brought heat, humidity, and the summer sun. As if God were giving me a farewell gift. The sun pulsated on the back of my neck, and I felt my skin peeling.

I reached the cliff probably around noon. The heat was in full blast, as if to say, “Enjoy the warmth. It’s the only warmth you’ve ever had.” I slowly walked towards the edge, gulping with each step. I turned around, closed my eyes, and jumped.

I expected to feel a rush of wind, to feel the sea foam run into my pores. I expected to feel alive, to feel powerful.

I didn’t expect anyone to grab my hand, but I was wrong.

The hand hoisted me up. It’s tight, sweaty grip felt like mine, and I thought for a second someone cared. Once up on my feet, I looked at my bloody hand, probably from the grip, and looked up at my savior.

No one was there.