Fall

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TW: Suicidal thoughts, weed smoking

I sit out on the roof, looking at the view. The city is covered in bright little lights, almost like a mirror image of the starry sky above. Except there are no stars. Just a dark, black sky that stretches away into the night. Empty. Just like me.

I take another drag of the joint in my hand, allowing the sweet smoke into my chest, before I blow it all out into the sky again. Like clouds, I think, as I watched the smoke curl and dissolve into the air. I've lost track of how long I have spent out here, staring at the city. Too long. I know that.

I look down, far over the edge, to where the cars speed along the road, a glint of light, and a squeal of wheels on the road.

Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to just...let go. To let myself fall over the edge and hit the ground, never to be seen in this world again. Fall. It's such a simple word, but it means so much. Fall

Fall - LamsWhere stories live. Discover now