The Life
Prologue
I walk along the ledge of the roof, paying no mind to the height or paying any caution to my safety. I walk, and walk, outlining the square-part of the roof as I walk. I stare ahead, not diverting my gaze to anything.
What am I doing?
I attempt to walk as close to the edge as possible while keeping the same pace. I look down off the edge, staring at all the tiny people who are scurrying about with their adequate daily lives. I’m so jealous; I wish I could have some kind of purpose like them. Even the smallest of them (being the poor, or the weak) even have more of a purpose than I would ever hope to imagine having.
Why can’t I be like them?
I stop my walk, and take a seat upon the ledge, staring off into the distance. A breeze blows casually by, and the Sun beats down without mercy. I look down at the people again, not with the feeling of jealousy, but a feeling of curiosity. I wonder how many of them had worse hardships than me, or had none at all. Which of them had gone through my pain, and which ones underestimate my life? The memories begin to flow through out my head, as you read them upon this page, as if you were reading them straight through my eyes.
These memories, they’ll never leave me. No matter how hard I try.
Please, God. I beg of you. Take my past from me; let me live this life without the hardships in which I've thrived.
Let the ones read who dare, I want no pity nor do I want your sadness. This is a story for eyes who dare, nothing more and nothing less.
Nothing more then the reason I had jumped.
What am I doing?
I attempt to walk as close to the edge as possible while keeping the same pace. I look down off the edge, staring at all the tiny people who are scurrying about with their adequate daily lives. I’m so jealous; I wish I could have some kind of purpose like them. Even the smallest of them (being the poor, or the weak) even have more of a purpose than I would ever hope to imagine having.
Why can’t I be like them?
I stop my walk, and take a seat upon the ledge, staring off into the distance. A breeze blows casually by, and the Sun beats down without mercy. I look down at the people again, not with the feeling of jealousy, but a feeling of curiosity. I wonder how many of them had worse hardships than me, or had none at all. Which of them had gone through my pain, and which ones underestimate my life? The memories begin to flow through out my head, as you read them upon this page, as if you were reading them straight through my eyes.
These memories, they’ll never leave me. No matter how hard I try.
Please, God. I beg of you. Take my past from me; let me live this life without the hardships in which I've thrived.
Let the ones read who dare, I want no pity nor do I want your sadness. This is a story for eyes who dare, nothing more and nothing less.
Nothing more then the reason I had jumped.