Horizon
The skyline is calling...
You wake up to the city skyline. You feel so high off the ground and yet so low in life. So you roll off the bed and wonder why you haven’t done it yet. Why you haven’t rolled yourself off the top of the building.
You stand and stretch, reaching out to the wall and feel the paper. That poster used to represent all of your hopes and dreams. Now it’s a reminder of the struggle of life, of how close and how far death is. Just a simple climb up those grey steel steps, a simple tilt forward and then just let the wind throw you over, let it take you.
But you’re awake, you didn’t die yesterday, so you may as well try and live out today right?
You walk the busy streets, bumping into shoulders and bags as the people hustle around you and yet it feels as if no one is there. Your eyes just watch them as they walk past you, just people existing, each with their own lives, all nobodies to everyone else. Just like you right? And yet it is the mass of individuals that makes the world turn. So where do you fit in?
A blaring horn wakes you from your thoughts and you jump back just as a bus rushes past. That was close. You could have been hit. You wonder where that would have taken you…hospital, perhaps some permanent debilitating injury you’d have to live with for the rest of your life…perhaps even death.
Your stomach is grumbling so you go into a store. Fake smiles and minutes of meaningless small talk later, you hold a sandwich and drink in your hands. You bite into the bread and cheese; it doesn’t taste of anything to you, its just food, substance. Tangible mass that you chew and swallow, before taking a swig of flavourless juice.
It starts to rain. The air is warm and smells of it as it starts as a drip and grows into a full spring shower. Somehow, seeing the rain saddens you, it slows your mind ‘til all you can do is watch as it hammers the concrete, as shiny tires and boots splash puddles and the ribbons find their paths down the streets echoing as they tumble into the drains.
Your shoulders hunch as you continue walking, but you lift your hand in the air, watching as the raindrops splatter against it. You feel their small, tingling touch and wonder blankly. And it is this lack of knowledge, this constant wondering, always not knowing which makes you stress and your ears redden and your hands grab the tips of your hair so tempted to pull it out. All you want is to know exactly who you are, how to live…is life worth living? You hold your tongue as your throat threatens to scream.
How do you cope? You walk home and open the cupboard. You take out the bottle of vodka and drink it like its water. That is how you cope; you drink to feel even less because at least then you know that you have felt something when you were sober, no matter how small. You let the world disappear in your drunkenness, spinning and blurring a strange sense of…euphoria? The last thing you remember is opening the front door again, and venturing out into the darkness of the night.
You wake up to the city skyline. There is no rain, but now there is a sharp, chill wind that cuts past you, ruffling your comforter and pillows. You can feel the suns warmth, weak, but there. And you remember. You have no hangover, your head is clear, your vision pure. Yesterday was but another chapter, another dream.
Your eyes grow accustomed to the light and you look round in awe. The view is breath taking, it looks just like the poster in your room. How many times had you dreamed you’d be up here, ready to take the plunge? You feel so alive up here; here, the danger is real. Just one little push and over you go. Goosebumps rise on your bare arms; are they from the cold, or the adrenaline? It isn’t so scary, it’s just so surreal. Everything feels like a dream. You shuffle yourself forwards so that your feet are hanging over the edge. They are freezing, even with your shoes, but you don’t care.
You shuffle forwards some more. Your knees now bend, lower legs dangling.
Shuffle again. You watch as the pillow tumbles over the edge and suddenly it’s like everything is turned on again. The dream has been ripped away and you’re left with the wind howling at you. You sit up and watch it fall and fall until it’s so small it disappears. You realise that this is the moment, that the next decision you make will determine the rest of your life…or loss of life.
Do you want to live?
You breathe and can feel it, life pumping through you.
Do you want to live?
All it would take is one little push.
Do you want to live?
You stand and stretch, reaching out to the wall and feel the paper. That poster used to represent all of your hopes and dreams. Now it’s a reminder of the struggle of life, of how close and how far death is. Just a simple climb up those grey steel steps, a simple tilt forward and then just let the wind throw you over, let it take you.
But you’re awake, you didn’t die yesterday, so you may as well try and live out today right?
You walk the busy streets, bumping into shoulders and bags as the people hustle around you and yet it feels as if no one is there. Your eyes just watch them as they walk past you, just people existing, each with their own lives, all nobodies to everyone else. Just like you right? And yet it is the mass of individuals that makes the world turn. So where do you fit in?
A blaring horn wakes you from your thoughts and you jump back just as a bus rushes past. That was close. You could have been hit. You wonder where that would have taken you…hospital, perhaps some permanent debilitating injury you’d have to live with for the rest of your life…perhaps even death.
Your stomach is grumbling so you go into a store. Fake smiles and minutes of meaningless small talk later, you hold a sandwich and drink in your hands. You bite into the bread and cheese; it doesn’t taste of anything to you, its just food, substance. Tangible mass that you chew and swallow, before taking a swig of flavourless juice.
It starts to rain. The air is warm and smells of it as it starts as a drip and grows into a full spring shower. Somehow, seeing the rain saddens you, it slows your mind ‘til all you can do is watch as it hammers the concrete, as shiny tires and boots splash puddles and the ribbons find their paths down the streets echoing as they tumble into the drains.
Your shoulders hunch as you continue walking, but you lift your hand in the air, watching as the raindrops splatter against it. You feel their small, tingling touch and wonder blankly. And it is this lack of knowledge, this constant wondering, always not knowing which makes you stress and your ears redden and your hands grab the tips of your hair so tempted to pull it out. All you want is to know exactly who you are, how to live…is life worth living? You hold your tongue as your throat threatens to scream.
How do you cope? You walk home and open the cupboard. You take out the bottle of vodka and drink it like its water. That is how you cope; you drink to feel even less because at least then you know that you have felt something when you were sober, no matter how small. You let the world disappear in your drunkenness, spinning and blurring a strange sense of…euphoria? The last thing you remember is opening the front door again, and venturing out into the darkness of the night.
You wake up to the city skyline. There is no rain, but now there is a sharp, chill wind that cuts past you, ruffling your comforter and pillows. You can feel the suns warmth, weak, but there. And you remember. You have no hangover, your head is clear, your vision pure. Yesterday was but another chapter, another dream.
Your eyes grow accustomed to the light and you look round in awe. The view is breath taking, it looks just like the poster in your room. How many times had you dreamed you’d be up here, ready to take the plunge? You feel so alive up here; here, the danger is real. Just one little push and over you go. Goosebumps rise on your bare arms; are they from the cold, or the adrenaline? It isn’t so scary, it’s just so surreal. Everything feels like a dream. You shuffle yourself forwards so that your feet are hanging over the edge. They are freezing, even with your shoes, but you don’t care.
You shuffle forwards some more. Your knees now bend, lower legs dangling.
Shuffle again. You watch as the pillow tumbles over the edge and suddenly it’s like everything is turned on again. The dream has been ripped away and you’re left with the wind howling at you. You sit up and watch it fall and fall until it’s so small it disappears. You realise that this is the moment, that the next decision you make will determine the rest of your life…or loss of life.
Do you want to live?
You breathe and can feel it, life pumping through you.
Do you want to live?
All it would take is one little push.
Do you want to live?
♠ ♠ ♠
This person isn’t looking for a way to die. Perhaps they had considered it at some point in their life, but that wasn’t the issue here. In this character’s pov they had only recently been existing, going through the motions of life without actually feeling anything. This is why at the end, the question is ‘do you want to live?’ rather than ‘do you want to die?’ The character is asking themselves whether they want to try and give living life to the full another shot. Can they be bothered to pull themselves out of their slumber? They just needed a reality check to do so, hence nearly falling/pushing themselves off of a skyscraper and dying.