I always wanted to fly.
My uncle always used to tell me its not the rush of battle. War is a lot of different things to a lot of different people, but mostly its just purpose. When one is in a war field, everything becomes truly simple. Human emotions, turn completely fundamental. Your survival, and all your comrades survival. Standing in the warzone, nothing to distract you, no 5 pm news, no neighbours fighting next door, nothing. Except you, and the thing that matters the most to you. Your life. So when people go back to war, over and over and over again, its not because they are addicted to it. Its because on the battlefield you don't need to think about these things, you think of simply one thing. Survival.
I was wandering the empty streets of my hometown. I was alone this time. I wanted to go alone. My mind was collapsing in on itself again. The only thoughts pervading my mind were "you're not good enough, not smart enough, not enough." I walked up and I approached the railing to the overpass, watching a horde of cars running below me stampeding over the plain gray concrete. "should I hold on for one more day?" I asked myself repeatedly as my focus began to blur. "No.. no.. why would I keep living for a hope that never really works?" I climbed the railing very carefully, and climbed down the other side. "I get to choose now" I thought, because for once, I felt free, I felt like this was the only time I had ever had control of my self, of my real self. My hands slowly left the ceiling and I felt limp, letting go of the feeling of freedom as I let gravity take control of my body. Then I died...
