Death. In the end, it is what takes us all. What we were before that one moment of clarity all comes into view. You see the good, the bad, and everything in between that shaped who you are. The finality of the moment hits you about halfway through when you finally realize that it’s the end. You realize the last words you said to someone you love, and wished that you could go back and change them to something along the lines of ‘I love you’ or ‘I’m sorry’. Near the complete end is when you come to terms with what is really happening. The moment you accept it is the moment you accept defeat. Accepting defeat is what I did. As I felt the life drain out of me and my moment of realization come to a close, I heard a sound that cut through my haze as I stared up at the sky waiting for death to take away my consciousness.
Instead of falling into the peaceful oblivion that I knew would come to take me, I felt a slight burning sensation. The burning started out as something that I could ignore until it started to spread out into my body, burning every nerve ending in its unrelenting path. I wanted to scream with agony, call for help, or anything that might let my death come quickly. I brought this on myself and now I was paying the price for my decision.
The burn was consuming me with terrible pain and I wanted to scream out in agony. I felt my muscles start to contract and I knew that I was now writhing in pain. The burning was growing worse. I knew that I couldn’t take much longer until I passed out. With that last thought, I heard a voice break through my cloud of pain shattering along with the sense of safety that had taken over my mind.
“I’m sorry.”
Too bad that voice was too late.
…
Sorrow filled my heart along with the sense of dread I had been overcome with since I stepped in the giant wooden door that lead me into the building. We had assemblies about bullies all throughout the school year. Paper signs laminated with plastic spoke of the anti-bully campaigns that the school was trying to put into effect and posters that spoke of a hotline that would help, but no one ever really did.
Spoken words do more to the already broken down person than what you would think. Just the slightest provocation can send a person over the edge to a darker fate than what was actually in store for them. That was my optional fate; the darker one. I chose it.
The words literally pushed me over the edge. They didn’t know what news I had gotten that morning. Little did they know I had received the worst news imaginable.
Jumping off the edge was easy; a simple task which was made effortless by replaying all the crude and hurtful words that were ever thrown my way. Whether they were thrown at me out of spite, or if they were just a joke that people took too far.
I didn’t think as I walked slowly up the flights of stairs leading onto the roof. I was savoring these last moments. I was thinking of all the things that could have been different; all the choices I made to get me to this point. Nothing changed my choice.
The cold wind was whipping at my clothes and throwing my hair carelessly around my face as I came upon the edge. I stepped up and my heart stuttered as if it knew what I was doing; as if it was trying to coax me away from the edge.
“Why me?” I whispered into the wind, my voice filled with sorrow.
That’s when I jumped. The clueless adrenaline pumped through my veins; it would never be used. I was just another soul that was lost in the darkness, only I was pushed further and further in by the taunting which left me with no way out. I was forever scared by their words.
If only people thought about their words. They can either build a person up, or break a person down. Just one person could have made that difference and been the light at the end; but even they decided not to pull me back from the brink. They decided to let me slip off the edge.