I looked over at the water below me. The water appeared to be alive. Staring back at me and laughing. The liquid sky judged me as I leaned over the edge. How deep was it? How high up am I? Should I cannonball or belly flop? Which would be more painful? Was it high enough to kill me? All these thoughts came flooding into my brain; circulating my mind and scrambling my thoughts. It was cold outside. I should have worn a jacket. My grandma would have wanted me to wear ten jackets. What would happen to her if I died? It would destroy her. Would anyone cry for me? Would anyone show up to my funeral? Who would speak on my behalf? Would I be missed? I rubbed my temples trying to shake this virus slowly trying to make its way into my head. I looked around and saw cars passing by not too far away. There was an elderly couple sitting on a bench, bird watching through binoculars. Would they see me jump? I wonder how long it would take for the coroner to get my body out of the water. Could I be recognized? Maybe I should think this through. If I jumped; I would be leaving everyone behind. My older brother wouldn’t have his kid sister anymore. My parents would have to go on with their lives knowing they outlived their daughter. My friends would replace me in a week. The bullies would pick on the kid who hardly showered because he would forget. My teachers would miss me. I am somewhat of a teachers pet. I did my homework and extra credit. I have straight A’s. I am the model student; or the nerd. I’ll be eighteen in a couple of weeks and graduating not long after that. I should be excited, right? I should be happy to leave high school and go off to college. Grow up and discover who I am but I think I have already. I am nothing. My parents are so proud of me. I’ve told them about the bullying but they said that I’m above it and to just ignore them. They’ll stop; my parents say. I tried to ignore them. That was the worst thing I could have done. I had the hardest time trying to explain to my parents my busted lip and black eye came from P.E. Those girls beat the crap out of me. One of them kicked me in the head while the other one stomped on my stomach. It took two months for my ribs to feel better. I couldn’t tell anyone anymore. I had no one. These “girls” are the richest kids in town and they could get away with murder. Even mine. My dad is a lawyer and my mom is a librarian. My father is too busy to talk to me. He’s always on the phone with clients and colleagues discussing upcoming court dates and case hearings. My mother tries to hear me out but I honestly think she’s like an ostrich. When her nose is in a book; she doesn’t hear or see anything. Just like an ostrich with its head in the ground. I hate who I am. I hate that I can’t be happy; completely. Jumping would be the easy way out but is it the better way out? What kind of legacy would I be leaving behind? Maybe I’ll jump and close my eyes. I looked down at the water and a hard tug jerked me out of my dark thoughts. It was the bungee jump instructor. He was adjusting my straps. I looked up at him and forced a smile. He gave my straps one last tug and asked, “Are you ready to jump?”
Please visit for more information
www.afsp.org
www.save.org
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255
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