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I'm suicidal, always have been.

I used to use an old fashion razor blade to hack my arms and any other body part the blade would hit. I have not a clue why, but, it makes me feel real. Then the day came when someone saw what I was doing to myself, so I "cured" myself and stopped. I still want to do bodily harm to my skin every now and then, but, I manage to resist the urge to start up again. I do slip up every so often, but, I don't go all out by slitting my wrists. It's usually my nails that break the skin instead of a razor now.

So anyway, tonight was the night I day-dreamed about my suicide. Yeah I do mean day dreaming at night, I do that.

I jumped off the thirty-second floor of my apartment building in Calgary. I imagined that I left my room, locked the front door behind me and continued down the smelly hall to the only working elevator. I jabbed the call button with my finger and waited with an elated feeling in my chest, much like a first date.

Eventually the elevator arrived, of course packed with every race imaginable in one tiny space. Chinese, Japanese, Dirty knees, Look at these. I pressed the button for the thirty-second floor and waited in the smelly elevator, stareing at the illuminated number.

Finally arriving at my destination, I walked out and sprinted down the hall to the first door I saw. I hammered on the door with my fist and made myself look frightened. A man opened the door, I think he was also Chinese or something like that, maybe mixed, I wasn't paying much attention to him. I scream at him that someone is trying to kill me, so he immediately opens the door and lets me in and gets the police on the phone. He should maybe also call an ambulance as well. I ask if I could go out on his balcony for fresh air, he, not knowing my plan, allowed me. I stepped into the bitter January air, the wind whipping my hair around my face, stinging it. I took a peek at the man, while he had his back to me I leaped over the railing and fell to my death.

I guess it turned out to be more than just air I stepped out for, I thought bitterly to myself. It was more like a breath of crushing bones, collapsed lungs, and ruptured arteries. I was glad, for the first time in my pathetic life, that this kind of fall, the survival rate was zero. So, as I was falling, I saw my life flash before my eyes and remind me that I never fed the cat.

Addition:

Gravestone

Here, lies are welcome and the truth is fabricated by another lie.

This woman does not deserve a priest at her funeral.

That man was accused of killing a woman that was on his balcony.

Today the hungry cat dies...