"Anywhere but here," I whisper as I lean over the railing. "Anywhere but here," I repeat like a prayer, a tuneful hymn. Maybe the hymn is the icy wind whipping against my face—whispering words greater than I can believe. The salty tears freeze as they plummet, shattering into pieces—my heart among them.
Down, down, down.
"Anywhere but here." The sentence plagues my mind, twisting and contorting. I turn it over and over in my head as I consider my chances: certain death or major injuries? To live or not to live—why must I ponder such an unjust question?
Why is it even a consideration?

The world is cruel, but I?

I am far crueler.