Why did I let him hurt me? Why did I let him break me down? I used to be so strong. Why did I ever pretend that he loved me? Why did I let him give me these bruises? It's my own fault no one ever found out. I always made up some excuse. Why did I always let him back in? Why did I let him make me cry and pretend it's alright? An now......I never worked up the courage to walk away? This is my life, with all its misery, everyday.

The night feels so cold,and yet it's the middle of July. I see the traffic rushing below but I don't hear it. The quiet silence I hear hurts. It wasn't as comforting as I had thought. Instead of it creating a warm and fuzzy feeling, it makes me feel so alone. So alone, so cold. And I knew that I wasn't coming back. I poise myself on the ledge, the entire earth seeming to shake below me, not wanting me to go. I'm going to miss my memories so much..... Does it seem though that you never get without actually giving? That you never get something incredible without having to give up something in return? And I all I had wanted was to find a pure love. But I found pain instead. It's so funny how good memories can start to make you cry; how forever never seems to really last. But it's even funnier how much you would loose if you suddenly forgot your past; how your 'friends' can just leave you when you're down and when you need someone they're never around. How people change and think that they're so much better than before. And how I could instantly forgive them, even though I'd never be able to forget how they left me there bleeding and bruised. Before that night, I hadn't realized how one night can contain so much regret, so much pain
That night made me feel like I was ugly in every single way. That I was unwanted and easily thrown away. Have you ever wanted to fly away like a butterfly resting on your fingertip? I've tried so hard to get off the ground, to get air beneath me. But I've failed every single time. Because as the French pointed out, 'There is no flying without wings.'

I tried so hard to be so perfect so he wouldn't hit me, so he might spare me some pain. But I wasn't ever good enough, never. Tears stream down my cheeks and I want to push him from my mind. He's the one who's driven me to the edge, the one who tries to convince me to stay and then beat me senseless when we get behind closed doors. I'm standing here on this stone ledge, the line between my life and my death so thin, and I can feel my end inching closer. I can feel this, that my end is near and still, I will never surrender to anything. When I figured out that he wasn't going to stop, I tried so hard to fight him but he always found new ways to torture me. (For example: Russian roulette.) And let's face it, he never believed me but the pain of depression is real. I know it is. All those feelings locked deep inside me, those feelings he could never feel are burning like acid in my soul. But soon, my hands will be clean of his torture, clean from blood and tears. So soon, my hands won't be stained. Tonight, at this midnight hour standing on this ledge in the middle of the rain pouring, I swear that no more tears shall seep my eyes, longing for a love that is no more and never was. I just want to squeeze my eyes shut. I remember how I've always loved the rain, how, when he hurt me, the rain would hide my tears and my blood. It would wash away his hold over me. Will this be worth it? I really have no clue. I’m so tired, weary with my sorrow, my pain. It all just hurts so much. The final thunder I would ever hear roared across the churning black sky as if in answer to my questions and I finally close my eyes. I am numb, not feeling anything but pain, anger, and fear. Calm and scared at the same time. I don't know how it's possible but for some reason it is tonight.

Yes, I am admitting that I'm scared. But it's not my death that I'm afraid of. It's the possiblity I might live. I know that if that happened I would die anyways, either by Corbin, or by my own hand. I'd keep trying until I got it right. And that's what scares me. I stand here on a thin stone ledge and I sift in my head, letting myself float away, examining not too closely, my emotional thoughts. I'm completely side by side with death itself and it feels so right. Like I'm supposed to be here. I feel as if there's nothing left to feel, nothing left to hurt me. My final night here has come and I'm almost TOO determined to set my tortured soul free. All those lies, all that pain. All for nothing. Nothing. I’m sick of sitting there and taking it like the perfect little girlfriend he's always wanted. I’ve finally grown sick of this, of him. No more. And I can hear his voice inside my head, repeating his departure to me, screaming it over and over. And as his voice fills my head, I feel his few short words as if they had been shards of glass that he'd smashed into my heart. I didn't want to feel the pain it induced but I couldn't help it. I already had felt the pain those words had caused. I see the night before me and it sparkles with possibilities, the faded star peeking through the dull stormy turmoil to encourage me. Everything is so silent. Silent except for the rain. The rain;it's still falling, but I can't feel it anymore. The rain..... it reminds me of the nights when thunder would shake my house and I would stare out the darkened windows at the white cracks of lightning that flashed across the black sky. I miss my memories, being there.... I walked bare foot, through a rainstorm once. I let the rain soak my clothing as it splashed in puddles. I had cart-wheeled down the street. I felt so alive then. And it was glorious. So free and cleansing.

And it begins to rain. I look up into the sky and twirled slowly on the edge letting the cool drops wet my face and cleanse my soul. As the rain falls, splashing in its puddles, and soaking my skin, it fills my mind. I’m escaping the storm and the rain knows this. It tears at me, freeing my heart. Back then I had thought, ‘I think I have some more living to do. And when I’m through, I’ll come back here, and hopefully be able to answer life’s questions to my own satisfaction.’ But I failed. All my life, I was waiting for my life to begin and now I’m realizing that I can’t wait any longer. I just have to jump in…. Suicide is so romantic in it’s intimacy. It’s just you and whatever you imagine. And tonight it’s just me and the rain.
My tears mix with the rain, running freely down my face and I know no one could stop me now.