Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Who knows, maybe I really should have jumped yesterday.
It felt like the right thing to do. I knew it was the right thing to do. Just to end it, then and there. Get it over with. Au revoir, world. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t goddamn jump.
Maybe it was the car I saw? Maybe I was afraid of someone seeing me jump. Maybe I was embarrassed they’d have to witness something like that.
Or maybe it was the goddamn height. I was scared, so fucking scared, of falling off. Which is weird, since I was going to jump, but then again there is a difference between a jump and a fall, right?
Jumping’s an action I have a choice in. Falling’s a different matter. Falling’s like sinking only faster.
It took hours to walk all the way back home. It didn’t really matter to me though. I hardly noticed how long it took. When I got home my mother was drinking and on the computer like always. I just stomped up the stairs and collapsed into bed.
She never even noti
You know, thinking back, I think the reason I didn’t jump was because the height wasn’t substantial enough for a guaranteed kill. I don’t think it would have broken any bones at all, actually.