I climbed one hundred sixty-eight steps on the way to my farewell. Fourteen flights. Each floor, a different chapter of my life that left me slightly less alive than the one before.
Climbing the first twenty-four steps, I was reminded of all of the stressful things I have had to deal with in my lifetime. Mostly friendships, parents, and unnecessary drama. Usual things that people my age have to endure on the way to becoming an adult. I thought I was going to make it to the top without a complete break down if the next one hundred forty-four steps were as easy as these were.
Reaching the third level, I was reminded of what led me here to begin with. Death. Too many people have left without a “Goodbye.” Too many people have departed without saying “I love you.” Wonderful, loving human beings with big hearts and good intentions have been ripped from my grasp with no warning at all. I had watched too many people I love slowly disintegrate into absolute nothingness, hurting me more and more each time.
Though I saw many things from my past during the next six flights, I felt no pain. Nothing. I was not sad as I individually replayed every fight I had ever had with my mother. Every blow to the head and harsh word that was said no longer affected me the way I knew she wished it would. I suddenly stumbled, falling into a small puddle of self pity. She extended her hand to me as I was collecting myself and whispered the words “I'm here for you.” This gesture received no acknowledgement. I simply stood up and passed her by without making eye contact, as if she was a beggar in the streets. I would have rather felt the world crashing down on me than how I felt at that moment, for it is not sadness or anger that kills people. What truly kills people is apathy.
Suicide attempts haunted me for the next couple of minutes as I made my way to the top. I flashed back to my first attempt at escape and wondered what it was that had stopped me from following through with it. No one was home. I could have easily swallowed the entire bottle of sleeping pills that my father had just gotten refilled, but I did not. I was too afraid to follow through, and now I hated myself for not doing so when I had the perfect opportunity. Every thought about taking my life after the first came quicker and easier than the one before. I believed that death was the only solution there was to every break down and argument that I had, but feared carrying through with something as extreme as killing myself for a very long time. I often hoped someone would wreck into the side of my car or hold me at gun point so that I could be done with my life without having to take it myself.
My thoughts then turned to self-mutilation, drug addiction, and drinking problems that consumed a majority of my nights. I remembered the first time a blade had ever gone deep enough into my skin to make me bleed. Nothing felt better than the relief that came with cutting. I drank until I blacked out about as much as I showered. Nearly every night I would tip the bottle back, hoping to forget about reality for a little bit. This only worked for a short amount of time. Eventually, drinking made everything that I had endured much worse. This is what caused me to turn to pills. The stairs were suddenly flooded with every single Vicodin, Loratab, and Xanax I had ever popped. The stairs themselves were razor blades dripping in my own blood. My feet gave and I slipped and cut myself with disappointment to relieve the pain of reality for the last time.
For the remainder of my trip up the stairs I was engulfed in weakness and discouragement. Every wrong decision reminded me of why I gave up on myself so long ago. Every lie I had ever told myself about meaning something to somebody just furthered my reasoning behind what I was about to do. By the time I reached my destination, I was barely strong enough to hold myself up.
There I was. Standing on the fourteenth story of an abandoned building, filled with sorrow and remorse from all of the things that had ever happened to me. I finally realized that I meant nothing to the world. Every breath that I took and step that I made was a constant reminder of how little it cared. Drenched in failure, I stood swaying back and forth in the open window and dove to safety.
The trip to the ground was much more satisfying than the one up. Alas, my problems were solved. For the first time in my entire life, I was at peace. The sidewalk was cold and unwelcoming, just like the rest of the world. My heart shattered for the billionth time against the hard grit, and just like that I was gone.
