Apr 15
The 8th floor isn’t the tallest; it’s just the floor my hotel room was on. It would be a good enough height to **** me and I’d have enough time to think on my way down. It was a pretty hotel with a large area downstairs that had fountains and lounge chairs, but what really caught my eye was the beautiful light fixture overhead. It was huge and hung down from the ceiling, it had all these little transparent glass leaf-like pieces on it, and all the pieces came together to make a cloud. The leaves were suspended on strings and they moved up and down slowly. The motion was kind of like one a whale would make when swimming through the sea. There were these big lights that were level with the structure that made all the leaves light up with a kind of bluish-purple. The hotel rooms were above the lounge area in rows stacked on top of each other. Looking down from the eighth floor I could see business people coming and going, coming and going. I wondered if I should take a shower and put on my best clothes before I do it, but I decided against it. I was ready.
As I climbed over the railing into the edge of fake potted plants I thought to myself “What a beautiful place to die.” I wondered who would witness my plunge and what they would think of me. I wondered if anyone would try to come to my rescue or if they would just scrape me off the floor and put me in a bag. I wondered what would happen if I didn’t die, if I had to live with myself after this. I would have to jump gracefully. When I started to fall I thought about my mom and dad. I am five hours away from them, but maybe that’s a good thing. My parents wouldn’t have to see my mangled body lying on the floor of the Hilton. I am the oldest of four siblings—I wondered if kids from their school would find out that their sister threw herself off the eighth floor of the Hilton.
My long hair flew upwards as I fell; I wanted to cut it, but I never got the chance. My body fell directly in front of those big lights which illuminated that big whale in the sky. It made me look like a shadow against the blue and purple. I wondered who would have to clean up my body and what I would look like. Would there be a ****** mess? Would my body look twisted because of the broken bones? Would my eyes be open or closed? What noise does a body make when it hits tile from the eighth floor? At this point I realized that I was afraid to die. The eighth floor was out of sight now and my body was falling fast. I threw myself off the eighth floor of the Hilton because I was hoping that death would make sense. Life is complicated, and stressful, and hard, but death would be easy right? The view from here is beautiful, and I realize it's too late for me. It’s too late for me to have a change of heart, it's too late for me to keep on living, it’s too late. Maybe this decision was made too early.
I hope I’m falling gracefully. I hope that this doesn't hurt. I hope that my death is more significant than my life. I hope that I am not reduced to a conversation at a family’s dinner table. I hope that whatever comes after this gives me closure. I hope it's nothing. I hope darkness surrounds me and I can sleep. I wish I had written something to explain myself but it's too late and life is too much. I don’t even know what my last words were, my last meal, my last time waking up, my last time falling asleep, my last time laughing, my last tear. I wasn’t crying when I jumped. I am getting close to the floor now, but I’m not ready. I’m not ready to die, but my vision goes black as I hit the pretty, marbled, shiny, white tile.
As I climbed over the railing into the edge of fake potted plants I thought to myself “What a beautiful place to die.” I wondered who would witness my plunge and what they would think of me. I wondered if anyone would try to come to my rescue or if they would just scrape me off the floor and put me in a bag. I wondered what would happen if I didn’t die, if I had to live with myself after this. I would have to jump gracefully. When I started to fall I thought about my mom and dad. I am five hours away from them, but maybe that’s a good thing. My parents wouldn’t have to see my mangled body lying on the floor of the Hilton. I am the oldest of four siblings—I wondered if kids from their school would find out that their sister threw herself off the eighth floor of the Hilton.
My long hair flew upwards as I fell; I wanted to cut it, but I never got the chance. My body fell directly in front of those big lights which illuminated that big whale in the sky. It made me look like a shadow against the blue and purple. I wondered who would have to clean up my body and what I would look like. Would there be a ****** mess? Would my body look twisted because of the broken bones? Would my eyes be open or closed? What noise does a body make when it hits tile from the eighth floor? At this point I realized that I was afraid to die. The eighth floor was out of sight now and my body was falling fast. I threw myself off the eighth floor of the Hilton because I was hoping that death would make sense. Life is complicated, and stressful, and hard, but death would be easy right? The view from here is beautiful, and I realize it's too late for me. It’s too late for me to have a change of heart, it's too late for me to keep on living, it’s too late. Maybe this decision was made too early.
I hope I’m falling gracefully. I hope that this doesn't hurt. I hope that my death is more significant than my life. I hope that I am not reduced to a conversation at a family’s dinner table. I hope that whatever comes after this gives me closure. I hope it's nothing. I hope darkness surrounds me and I can sleep. I wish I had written something to explain myself but it's too late and life is too much. I don’t even know what my last words were, my last meal, my last time waking up, my last time falling asleep, my last time laughing, my last tear. I wasn’t crying when I jumped. I am getting close to the floor now, but I’m not ready. I’m not ready to die, but my vision goes black as I hit the pretty, marbled, shiny, white tile.
