Self-Conclusion

The first thing he noticed was her ugly sweater.

He was on the rooftop the apartment building he lived in, walking along the side of the building and occasionally looking over the ledge at the sea of cars that were probably late for work and in a rush. He was about to pull himself up to sit on the ledge when he heard the door swing open, causing him to nearly fall off. He watched her walk to the opposite side of the building and as she sat on the ledge with a leg on either side, he took in her appearance – of what he could see. Her ugly sweater – covered in a design of stripes filled with triangles and other random shapes – was the most obviously thing. It hung loosely and was cut just below her belly button, revealing a few inches of tanned skin above her jean shorts. Her black Converse were dirty and looked to be only held together by a few loose threads.

She hadn’t noticed him – or hadn’t acknowledged him, at least. He was heading toward the door, hoping to exit without being noticed, when she stood up quickly. Her movements were careless, as if she didn’t care that she was on the ledge of a tall building and she didn’t care if she fell off. The worry finally started to set in when he saw her stare over the edge, lifting her foot for a few seconds at a time. He began to walk toward her, his mouth open to say something but she spoke first, not turning around. “It isn’t going to work,” she told him. “Whatever you’re gonna say – that it’s not right or I shouldn’t do it – I’m not gonna let you get in my way.” She turned slightly, finally looking at him. Her empty blue eyes met his brown ones. “You shouldn’t sneak up, anyway. That’s not smart either.”

He walked closer, leaning against the ledge as he looked up at her, not even shielding his eyes from the sun. “I don’t think you know exactly who you’re talking to,” he said.

“I don’t even know who you are, so you’re right. I don’t really care to, either,” she replied. Nobody said anything as she kept glancing at him, waiting for him to leave but he only looked over the ledge, calmly looking at the scenery. “You can go now.”

“Whatever it is – whatever you’re going through or feeling – you know it isn’t going to last, right?” he asked her, not wanting to waste time and especially not wanting her to jump in front of him. “It isn’t unusual, either. We all play with the idea of sadness and wanting to end it all but the thing is, we’re never supposed to act on it no matter how hard it gets or unbearable the misery becomes.”

She scoffed. “Okay, Dr. Phil. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” she answered.

“Don’t just brush me off like I’m telling you something that doesn’t have meaning. I know you probably don’t believe me and think I’m just some stupid stranger who has no clue, but I mean it,” he insisted. “Think about all the people you’d hurt, everybody who would miss you. No, they won’t get over it just like that, no matter how much you’ve convinced yourself they will. Somebody loves you and needs you to stay alive for them.”

She stood still for a few moments, staring down at the busy streets. Neither of them doubted that she’d be gone if she jumped yet he wasn’t sure why he was telling her all this. Of course he didn’t want to just walk away without trying but he wasn’t sure if he believed the words coming out of his mouth, so why was he trying to push them on some girl? Finally, she responded. “You make it sound so easy,” she started, her voice bitter. “Like somebody else wanting me around is enough to keep me around. But it isn’t. How am I supposed to care about that when everyday it gets harder for me to wake up? If there’s somebody who loves me and wants me to live, they’ll want me to be happy. This is the only way.”

“But you can’t be happy if you’re dead. You can’t be anything but dead,” he responded quickly. It sounded like he was actually getting somewhere. “Trust me, I know that sounds better than being miserable and I know how bad you want to jump but you’ve stuck around this long just to talk to me, right? That has to count for something.” She didn’t say anything. He saw her foot edging closer to the edge and, while he wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, he panicked. “How about instead of dying, you live with me?”

Her foot stopped and her head turned to him, a mixture of shock and confusion on her face. “Are you crazy? You don’t even know me. I could be a serial killer and you’re inviting me to live with you?”

“Not with me literally,” he corrected. “My parents would probably question why there’s a girl with us. But with me as in letting me be in your life; be your friend. I know I don’t know you and you don’t know me but I think I’d like that change that soon. Hopefully. As for the serial killer thing, I think I’m safe as the only person you’re trying to get rid of is yourself.”

He could practically see her guard lowering but the skepticism didn’t go anywhere. “We don’t know each other,” she emphasized. “I don’t even know your name. It isn’t worth it; you’re only some random guy.”

He was losing her. She was convincing herself that he had no clue about anything. “Look, I’d be lying if I told you that things will never be rough because they will. I just want to prove that it won’t be forever and the good will outweigh the bad. I could stand here all night, trying to convince you to stay, but what good would that do? None of this motivational, cliché bullshit will be enough. I’m asking you to give me a chance to show you that life’s worth it.”

“You’re not going to let up, are you?” she asked. He opened his mouth to tell her that if she truly believed she was better off dead, he’d go. But she continued before he could. “Alright, you win. But you’ve only got one night to prove that you’re better than the jump. But I swear to God, if you do anything that hurts me, I will throw myself off of this building before you can even blink.”

He held out his hand to help her down. “Settle down,” he instructed as he grabbed her hand. “Believe it or not, I know what you’re going through. Ten minutes before you got here, I was going to jump too. So we can help each other.” As her feet hit the cement, she looked at him with her eyebrows furrowed. He knew what she was thinking – This guy who just talked me down from a ledge was going to kill himself? How? Why? – but he also knew she wouldn’t voice those questions because he didn’t to her. “Let’s get started, shall we?”