I sat there, my feet hanging over the edge and casually moving back and forth to the sound of my own heartbeat. I could see fog, vaguely diminishing the looks on people's faces as they passed by, hundreds of feet below my swinging presence. I laughed silently watching them pass, to their normal lives, their monochromatic colors of work, eat, sleep. I watched them, so silently, even though even my screams would not be heard unless I plummeted straight down toward them. I looked up, leaning back slightly, and watched as my breath poured out in slight puffs of practically invisible air, clouding together in fragrant clouds reminiscing my peppermint gum I had long ago rid myself of. I remember that morning as I sit there, closing my eyes to see that world come out in blotches of black and white. Waking up, hearing the shouts, the anger, the suitcases that would never make it out the door. The divorce that wouldn't happen in time. The blare of the shower as I shook off the glistening water from my body watching it twirl to the floor, slamming again the floor in a sudden burst of reality. The clothes I picked out of the closet, simple grays and whites with touches of light baby blue, as though I would blend in with the cloud. Pulling on my slightly soggy shoes from coming home late, squishing through the wet dew as I climbed through the window to get home. Walking out to the living room through the shouts, the slaps, the fight for money, for prosperity, for survival. What would it be like to not care about survival? I remember that thought that I had as I sat down at the table, eating the simple, bland cereal that was all we could afford. The spoon clinking again and again, until, I had made my decision. I had stood suddenly, and their voices died out as they saw me. Out of my normal pattern i walked out the door, and kept on walking, one foot, then the other, across the pavement, cracked through and through, with little monochromatic weeds poking through. I walked straight to the building, my feet padding against the cold hard stairs as I climbed, up, up, and up again. Till I came to the very top, and opened the door. Stepping out, and shuffling closer, climbing over the small railing and leaning back against it, my feet over the edge. Then, i laughed. finally, to be free of the need to survive, I am free. I had thought. I opened my eyes, the little white puffs of breath showing more now as the first lights of dawn appeared over the horizon. I looked up, seeing the colors painting the sky's one last time. "I am free." I whispered, and with that I pushed off the ledge.
On The Edge
February 18, 2012