Wednesday, 30 January 2013

I'd rather find my wings on the way down. (Paul Brandt)

Before I walked through again, I forced control on myself. I diluted my rage. I cooled down. Then I briskly breezed by Nicky with a level head and a sure smile.

When I got back to my apartment, I locked the door behind me. Man, I wanted to get high. I took my everlasting supply of candy from my cupboard. I put one in my mouth then realized I was just making myself fatter. I marched to the balcony and spit it out. It flew over the giant out-of-place tree that seemed to separate our building from the next. I emptied all my candy out the window. They filtered down through the leaves of the tree. I liked that. Esthetically it was just really pleasing.

Emotions were firing through my body. I was confused and overwhelmed and I just wanted heroin. I didn’t know what to do next.

I climbed up on the railing and teetered for a second. The railing was no more than an inch thick. I was flying high above the world. It was dangerous, it was exciting. I was scared and I felt alive.

I jumped.

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