This is what I've come for, what I understand to be more noble than myself. In itself being the one who is drunk and uncaring, misunderstood to the point of suicide. The building doesn't look so high from the top. You can't even hear the noises below, or imagine your body smashing upon impact causing a sudden death. You won't even hear the sirens coming to pick up the pieces, unless you attracted a crowd, delaying your death til the very last moment. You've reached this point and you have to do it, turning back is just not an option. Of course the men in blue are down below shouting bullshit at you in a calm voice, trying to convince you otherwise.
"You're meant for better things, son. Why is this man, whom I don't know, who would arrest me on any other given day, telling me I'm meant for better things. He'd rather send me to jail, down the fucking river and on the way in his armed vehicle while I sit in the back contemplating my escape route he's' telling me to watch my asshole and not to drop the soap. Fuck him and his better things; I'm not his goddamn son.
And then reality hits. I sit down upon the ledge and cry. I know I'm going to die, either it be now or in the near future. What is to stop me from jumping, taking the 1-foot step forward and the 60-foot drop down? You sense something behind you; you turn to see a chain of cops coming at you. The only question is are they coming to push me or see me off up close. They pay for they're uniforms, watching from down below might cause the corpse to squirt blood on they're precious fucking monkey suits. In the suddenness of they're approach I slip and fall, and my mind has escaped me. A near death experience is better than living and better than death.
As I'm falling, I see no familiar faces in the crowds. I can sense the fear and anticipation of the faces below me as I'm descending into the awaiting cement; ready to be smeared by this body I've come to call my own for the past 19 years. This body that I carry every day is weak, my movements are wreck less, my thoughts are senseless. They want me to die, even the police, I know this because I want to die as much as they want to witness it. These sick bastards want to watch me disintegrate before they're very fucking eyes. They won't turn away, they cant. It makes for the best dinner conversation they've had in weeks, months, maybe even years.
Before dinner was ever served, the husband, wife, daughter, son, whoever will begin with what they've seen.
"This is a great meal, considering what I've witnessed today."
This is supposed to mean death makes you lose your appetite, but it's just a cheap approach.
As sex roles go, it is the fathers turn to speak, he's the first to volunteer the suicidal escapade, which he witnessed earlier in the day, which didn't even affect his appetite. He just needed a way to bring such a non-subtle topic into dinner.
"What did you witness?"
"While I was downtown, I seen a kid jump 60 feet to his death."
"Oh my god"
"Ya, it was a sight to see."
"Who was it that did it, do you know?" the daughter inquired.
Dinner was about to become interesting.
The father mumbled off a name, the daughter had a blank white stare.
Her family questioned her with they're provoking eyes, wondering why she had just put on the face she did. To their disbelief this was a guy she was secretly seeing, he had been fucking her so gracefully for the passed six months. Now the dad was more than happy with what he had seen, he witnessed the suicide of the mother-fucker that was penetrating not only his daughters holes, but her mind as well. She had become increasingly uncaring and involved with drugs thanks to the dearly departed. They weren't sure to smile or to cry.
And back to my fall. Life has not flashed before my eyes just yet, and I imagine it will not considering I only have seconds. All I can think about is why no one who shared my blood had come to see me off. Perhaps my mother was collecting the welfare check, or my dad in an important meeting, which he knew nothing about; he was only staring at the cleavage of his fellow co-workers, turned sluts in his own twisted imagination. And I hit, only having the questions in my mind that I should have asked before the inevitable jump...