The Edge

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I stood dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, looking down at the sea angrily washing up against the rocky shore, wondering if joining the rocks would be such a bad thing. They seemed calm and worry-free despite being hit over and over. I could use some of that. I could use the ability to stand up no matter how many times I'm shoved down.

It's not as if I haven't tried to find that here, no. I've done my best. I've tried everything that people suggested, but then ultimately realised that was the problem – I was trying what people suggested. But people didn't get me, nor I them. I looked down to the rocks once more and realised I felt more at peace with them than I had with people my entire life.

In an instant, my mind was made up. I cast one more look backwards (I'm not sure why. Maybe it was to see if there was any part of me that still thought there was hope for me amongst people still, or maybe because some part of me didn't want this to be my best option.) and took a step forward, my eyes now shut.

And you know how I knew it was the right choice? They say when you die everything you love, your whole life, flashes before your eyes. I only saw the rocks.

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