Going Through To The End

I'm okay with death.

What's wrong with me?

That can't be right. It shouldn't be right.

None of this is right.

But to me, it was.

 

Going to school every morning, looking over the train station, head pointed down towards the tracks.

Your mind imaging how your organs might look being ran over.

Splatting everywhere.

your blood dripping off of the edge of the platform.

The red, staining the cold metal tracks that are now warm, nearly hot.

The faint smell of smoke as the train continues to spark, trying to stop the train as to try to save you.

The horrible reactions of the people's faces.

   Some crying.

   Some screaming, covering their eyes.

   Some banging their head, trying to get the terrifying images of a body being crushed under a train.

Their eyes on you.

   Your heart being crushed.

   Your bones shattering under the train's weight.

   Your mind reliving the last 17 years pf your life.

 

But no.

   No, that sounds too good.

   Too... Clean.

 

How about a building. A tall building.

For example, the empire state building.

You feel the calm wind and you smile.

   Because you can feel the wind trying to push you away from the edge.

   You smile more.

   You let out a giggle.

   Then you just striaght out laugh.

Maybe be its God giving you a sign saying, "Wait you have so much to live for."

 

Next thing you know your having a conversation with the guy.

 

"What am I living for?"

"The future!"

"What future?"

"Your future!"

"Full of what? I'm living with my father who is lazy as fuck. I live in the shelter. I don't have a real home. I don't have a real family. My friends are tired of listening to me. No one seems to hear me. My heart was broken twice. Everyone I meet either fucks me over or ends up getting hurt because of me. Why am I living if all I'm doing is taking up space?"

"..."

 

He doesn't answer.

No words.

No sayings.

No signs.

You step over the ledge letting your body fly, letting gravity take over. Your body falls.

Drops.

Lands in a loud thud on the hard concrete floor.

Your arms and legs slanting, going in directions you didn't even know exist.

Your eyes wide from the great amount of air that was pushing against your face. 

Your head cracked open, your brain, spread out and posing as the multiple human beings crowd around, taking pictures and posting it on social media.

   Some turn away.

   Some stare.

   Some eben laugh.

   Some look scared. Why?

Because out of all of the massive amounts of blood pooling around your body, seeping into the endless cracks of concrete and spreading, waiting to stain humanities shoes, they can see.

The only thing they will ever remember is the way your chubby cheeks are popping out, your once white teeth now stained with blood and your lips turned upwards. 

The only smile, the only happiness you have ever felt.

Falling to your death.

Suicide.

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