So I finally contemplated suicide. And planned for it. Its to be expected I guess, from one with a story like my own. It came late though, sort of like money does. On the bright side, I decided against the thought within moments of its conception, sort of like the time money spends in my pocket.

But the thought lingered, not in the sense of an idea being considered for a second try but more of an embarrassing thought surfacing mid monologue while having breakfast or watching cats mate. I figured if I went through the motions of the plan I would finally find peace. Put the thought to rest and move on to more embarrassing things.

Its a regular Friday, everyone is either jobless or covering up unfinished work and killing witnesses or flirting with the boss. Everyone is trying to leave early, battling for a longer weekend and “All is fair in love and war” my friend. Amidst the rush and excitement I am the only one that is taking slow steps towards one of them fancy high rises which seem to sprout from the ground at an alarming rate, my city is changing and I feel left out. All the more reasons to die. I make a few steps along the way to take in the scenery one last time, I watch people shuffle past me oblivious to the storm of emotions wrecking my heart. I wonder if anyone among them is thinking about dying too. Misery loves company.

Strange how conscious to the surroundings one becomes when he knows he is about to die. I notice all these little things which would have escaped my attention on any other day. They all feel like anchors holding memories in place. Moments when I felt things, moments when I had things, memories that make me want to weep. That green pack of SM cigarettes takes me back to the time when they almost killed my father, when I thought losing him too would kill me. Fortunately he did not die, unfortunately I lost him anyway. It did not kill me but contrary to popular opinion it did not make me stronger. Strong people don’t make a decision to murder themselves.

I see bracelets carelessly placed on a table top and I lift my left arm to look at the one I am wearing. It is made of same sized black beads threaded with a black linen string, beautiful in its simplicity. It is a reminder of the love a woman once had for me, her love was unrelenting, it persisted despite my best efforts to brush her off. Her love took me by surprise, see I am very skilled at making people feel like they don’t mean shit to me. My favourite social activity is to make people feel unwanted, its a classic indicator of a guy with daddy issues. My father ditching me was the last thread, the ultimate proof that anyone I dare love unconditionally will walk out of my life. So I took up the mantra “Offence is the best defence”.

I shouldn’t have, seeing that her love had gotten to me and I feel like I loved her back a little at first and then a lot with passing time. By the time I couldn’t hold it inside any more she was long gone, she left me a bracelet though. I want to die.

The deep orange glow of the setting sun hits my eyes. It is time. I cross the road heading straight for the entrance, the door slides open and out comes the most beautiful chick I’ve ever had the pleasure of smile at for longer than necessary. Her springy locks are dancing wildly to the rhythm of the wind, I so want to brush them off her eyes if only to have a closer look at that skin that has the colour of honey under sunlight. There is a dark spot right above her upper lip and next time I read the phrase “sexy lips” I will not think of Natalie Dormer. Enough said. My smile still unable to retract I manage a momentary glance at her long neck and the twin distractions on her chest which make me think of a perfectly spherical coconut split evenly into two and then turned to self regenerating chocolate with the forgotten arts of high alchemy.

She walks past and I stop and turn around because when all is said and done, ass is life. She doesn’t disappoint, the jeans fit and the waist is ‘this’ tiny. Ever seen an ass so fine you whistle to yourself involuntarily? She turns and laughs. If I wasn’t going to die I would marry her.

As I head for the lift I pass by a liquor store and admire those beautifully designed bottles of liquid happiness, some are clearer than air, some red, some a shade of blue, some are golden and some a deep shade of brown, they all look perfect (even when death looms a true gentleman always finds time to admire fine art). If I could afford one I’d have taken it to the rooftop with me, my companion at the time of death. But if I could afford one I probably wouldn’t be on my way to a fall to the death. Hah! FALL, my tombstone will say “Both T and Lucifer had daddy issues and chose to fall”

Finally at the rooftop I stand at the western edge and watch the sunset, the only thing that has been consistently beautiful my whole life. I wonder what the sun would do if it was sentient and heard that humans think its beautiful. Its PR firm would get fired. Literally. I sit on the ledge and dangle my legs in the air then I take my phone out and take a picture of the streets below with my feet and the sunset in the horizon in the frame. I post it on Instagram with the caption “Beauty is eternal, FINAL THOUGHTS”. I then change my Whatsapp status to “I AM SORRY LOVE”

I will then plug the earphones in and play Evanescence’s Lithium before I look up to have one final look, my city is beautiful. I turn around and see the ocean, city lights reflecting on its surface. I take the bracelet off and let it fall first and with tears in my eyes I fall backwards….

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.