I look over the cliff.
It's not only steep,
but deafening.

Down below
about a hundred feet under my feet,
the waves crash violently against the rock face.

The cruel, unforgiving ocean,
the jagged rocks that come in and out of existence
beneath the water,

why do they seem to be inviting me into their unending embrace?

I often think about how it would feel,
the few seconds before hitting the water,
the few seconds after jumping from the edge.

My mom says that's when
most people panic and freak out,
realizing they regret a choice they no longer have a choice in.

However,
all I can think about is the air flowing past me, like I'm flying,
and smelling the sea as the noise of the water grew closer,

and crying.

Crying not from sadness or joy
or anything I have felt in a long time,
but from pure, unadulterated relief.

And I think I would be smiling as well.