So close, yet so far.
So close to death, yet such a far fall.
My feet dangle off the building, a small sense of unsureness settled at the bottom of my stomach.
My mother? Dear Lord, she'll be a mess. But don't want to be in this life. I want to be free.
My friends? They hate me anyway. They'll be happy that I'm gone.
My father? He's drunk and high all the time. He hits me too. At least he will never ever, ever hit me ever again.
I sit up, gasping for air. Just a dream. Just a freaking dream. No, no, no. I would never do that. How could I be even dreaming of that? Dear God, I have problems.
I stretched and got out of bed. I walked down the stairs and saw Mom making pancakes. Outside, the sky was clear and with plenty of sunshine. I smiled.
Jump into the arms of my mother.
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