Prologue
If only we had simulators in this world to project our emotions, the silent battles we fight with ourselves, trying to get through certain parts of our lives just so our family or friends can understand the pain we are going through. I take a step forward climbing the railing which feels cold under my touch.
The air pods in my ears blaring with music at full volume, the bass trembling through my chest. Blasting music to silence my thoughts isn’t healthy neither is climbing this railing. But lately, I’ve been coping in all the wrong ways, burning my mouth with chilies or bruising my skin. Both leave scars, just in different ways.
I wonder why we call it “Life” because some of us have been long dead, just breathing, existing waiting for the inevitable. I’m not even afraid of Death but people.
I’m about to jump leaving this toxic world behind just when someone grabs my hand and pulls me towards him, making me fall on him.
I hit his chest, the impact knocking the breath out of me, not from the fall, but from the reality of still being alive. My AirPods slip from my ears and clatter onto the concrete rooftop, the sound sharp against the quiet hum of the city below.
His arms stay wrapped around me, steady yet hesitant, like he’s afraid I might shatter if he lets go.
“Why?” My voice is barely a whisper, cracking under the weight of the question.
Why did he stop me? Why does he care? Why am I still here?
“Because you don’t want to leave,” he murmurs.
“You only want the pain to stop.”
I’ve never let any guy near me ever, but this one feels like home. I pull him closer and start sobbing in his chest like an 8-year-old. His hand weaves into my curls, gently stroking them, I didn’t expect him to calm me, but his touch is soothing.
