March of Madness

            I died one night. It was a mistake at first. I was on a roof top, near the edge, there were some loose rocks. I slipped. And as I was falling, all I could think of was all the things I wasn’t proud of. Not just things that were directly connected to me, but things that others did, in the past, and the present, that influenced my life, and the time I had to live in. I was selfish. I see that now. Selfish to think that I had no say in how things were run. Selfish to believe that what I did had no consolation to the works of my surrounding.

            I caught a ledge halfway down. My fingers tightly gripped the brick face. I looked down, and past my dangling legs were brightly colored lights, emitted from the cars below. It was the first time I realized it was the middle of the night. I thought about the people below, the ones in the cars. The ones who run so fast through life, they never stop and look up at the stars. Never stop and look up, and maybe see me hanging there. They’re the ones caught up in doing everything possible to make their lives better. The ones who pass by an opportunity to help another have a better life. The ones seeded in selfish ambitions and arrogant knowledge.

            That’s when I decided to die. I loosened my grip on the edge. I looked down one last time. the streets below were now just streaks of colored light now. I let go.  I let go. I let go. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. I let go. Again and again. I let go… I let go…  And then I woke up.