I'm holding onto it. Whatever it is that's keeping me here. I'm the different one, the one that tries and desperately fails at keeping things together. But when you're different in a group of misfits, you seem to hold onto anything you can.
The paper is in front of me. I've been given the choice. To leave or to stay. It lingers in my mind and in the pen I hold. I turn around in an attempt to see that I'm alone and he gives me a look of desperation and I know why he's hurting.
And we fall.