Suicidal

"I came here to die."

The words she had mumbled to her friends a few minutes ago replayed themselves in her head, looping over and over again like a faulty record. The concern they showed - “Hey what’s wrong? You can’t be serious can you?” - did nothing to dissipate the strong willpower she had mustered to finally decide to do it. She had always been good at faking though, so what her friends got in return was a genuine laugh and an assurance that she was just quoting her favourite song. And so, worries alleviated, they continued their track downhill while the remaining solitary figure went up the opposite way.

They didn’t know that the honesty behind her laugh was because she pitied them for not being able to feel the kind of freedom that she was about to embrace.

The view was pristine. Almost heavenly. Homely, she corrected herself. I’m going home. Azure blue skies flecked with little tufts of white enveloped the atmosphere, and the Atlantic waters lapped at the rocks eighty feet below, creating an entrancing melody to her ears. The wind tugged gently at the hem of her skirt. To her, it was as if they were beckoning at her feet to step further onward so that they could carry her away wherever she wanted to.

Now at the very end of the palisade, she turned around, a hundred and eighty degrees, and took one last look at the greenery nestled atop the cliff. She had always preferred blue to green, and so tilted her head skyward and her body backward. In a flawless fluid motion, she was one with the wind, plunging at a comfortable constant acceleration of 9.8 metres per square second. She kept her eyes open just to take in the beauty of the clear sky bathed by golden sunlight in all its glory. The hints of a smile crept across her face as the sound of crashing waves became louder and louder, and finally fragile bones met frigid cold water.

She welcomed the blackness and asphyxia like a long lost friend.