Something those movies don’t tell you about a scene like that? Your ears scream from the shots as your heart pumps blood, so many sirens that it feels like your body is warning you that you’re being attacked. Your body becomes the EMT and the police that you pray come to save you. No one thinks that they’ll be a damsel in distress, no until it happens to you. No matter gender or age, we all have a point in our life where we think that something happens only in movies. Well, fuck me, I guess. My life must be one screwed up movie just for your sick enjoyment.
Adrenaline is like a drug. It strengthens your force and stamina- breaking your limits to a point at which you feel nothing and yet everything. It’s the equivalent of a steroid with which emotions flood your mind, and you hope so much that even one prayer feels eternal. You are endlessly hopeful yet concurrently entirely dejected. At one point, it hits you: No one’s here for you. No one will save you. So if you have any sliver of reason to live, you know you have to be your own damn savior.
I don’t even try counting the steps, the only thing I can let myself do is press my amulet and keep running. There’s no screaming or yelling- out here, no one hears. Even if they do, they don’t. The barrage of footsteps is as strong of a flood as my thoughts- a repeated cycle of one thing: I need to get out of here. I need to keep running.
I close my eyes and hope that Death accepts me.
Falling to your death is much calmer than it seems. Your body slows, as it knows: You aren’t surviving this. You might as well go in the calmest state possible. The light? It doesn’t exist. The life flashback? Not a full one for me, just a single memory.
Me and him. The first time we met. Who would’ve guessed that my first and only love would start in a damn coffee shop? I guess my life really is a movie. A grim one at that. And if I star in it, I feel bad for the viewers. I hope that they aren’t scarred watching me try to live a more-or-less normal life, constantly being blocked by life and reverted onto the path that I never chose or wanted. I hope that they don’t hope that the hero isn’t living to the end of it.
As a kid, I always thought I’d be the perfect person- The perfect hero. Always smiling, always saving and yet never suffering. I’d keep those who I love close to me, and never lose anyone- stranger or not. But now? I know I ain’t that type of person. I lived long enough to know that. I’ve lost all whom I loved, and dare not even try to love someone. Death shall accept me