"Putrid piece of ---- drive motherfucker."  

" The car or you? " 

" You wanna play that game? I'm in."

" What are you doing? "

" Never Camp at the Devil's Lair, Love. "

•••

This book contains explicit contents.

• Sexual Harassment

• Suicide Awareness

• Trigger Warnings

Light-hearted flirts

Witty Retorts

Life

&

Saving Grace

Breathe. Just Breathe. Live.

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-whitewall124

1

DIAPHANOUS DOUBT

The wind whipped my cream-colored crop top, tousled my tattered twilled jeans. I rested my clammy hands on metal railings, the cold biting back. My knees buckled, heights didn't help. My lips quivered the shortest tremble, a puff of air escape from my bloodied mouth. My vision became bleary and bleak,  and copious cascade of chaotic tears rimmed my eyes.

The stars scintillated sparks in sheer contrast of the darkness that had blanketed the sky. Distant city luminescence were like freckles of muted fairy lights. Dawn is my favorite part. Everything is in tranquil, amidst all the troubles of the world. 

I was born at dawn, I'm going to end it at that too.

My mind wanders about the note I wrote seven years ago. It would all come to fruition in any how. I've tried to battle monsters morphed from incessant insecurities and sanguine self-loathe. I have given myself time to heal, time only relieves remnants of rubbish, never did it eradicate the rubble.

I tried.

So much, if you'd asked me.

I tried, but everytime I failed.

At the spur of the moment, I was ready. The world revolves around still. What would change?

 Nothing.

That was my breaking point. It sealed the deal. Death is sold.

My left foot dangled from the balcony. Why left? if I were a normal suicidal maniac it wouldn't mean anything. But I wasn't going to stop death from my sentiments. Oh, the irony. Left, because I know since time immemorial what I'm about to do is wrong, it's never right. I breathed in heavily what would be the last breath I take. I'm happy. The place I'll be going is nowhere near happy, I know. But what's the difference? Here or somewhere, I'm nowhere near okay.

I gripped on the railing, lifting myself up to bring my right foot next. My hands were strained, I was heavy. Or was it the feeling inside me? I wasn't sure. Maybe because as much as I fooled myself that this was the last and best thing to do, a part of me was hoping someone would see past lingering smiles and innocent looks. Just one.

So I'd give myself time.

5 minutes.