I wished people just had left me alone sometimes. Maybe things would have turned out differently.

But, I guess we'll never know now. Maybe when this is all over, it'll be clearer. The highest hopes at lowest points yet again.

I wish my thoughts were organized, I wish it wasn't so hard for me to be coherent to other people. I guess they won't mind when this is all over, considering no one ever spoke to me.

Goddamn it. This was the only time where he said that I shouldn’t do it, but he was pressing on about this earlier. He would say, “Why are you still holding onto this shit? What else is here? More people to hurt you? To spit on you and mock you?” Then he’d laugh.

Well, I’m at the point where I’m about to let go. Why isn’t he laughing now? Why is he asking me to be rational and really think this over?

There’s the other one who keeps telling me to think about the good times and forget the bad. The good times always lead to the bad. Don’t they know that? I think she’d understand why I don’t need to think about the good; she always makes me dream about it.

They should just stop speaking now. Nothing’s stopping me from doing this. Finally.

I used to lay in front of the television when it was dark outside, and I wished that maybe the light would blind me. I’d lay in my room after she made me dream about the good times, hoping somebody would call me, invite me to go with a group of their friends, then maybe we’d all do something they liked, and they’d remember me at school the next day.

And then we’d all be happy, maybe. But, it never happened, and it’s never going to happen.

There’s a good side and a bad side to this – bad side is, I’ll be dead. But maybe that is something to be put on the good side. Well, on the bad side again, I’ll be dead, I’ll never be invited to do any of these things, I’ll not be remembered, I’ll never accomplish anything. But I never was going to accomplish anything. There was always somebody else there to decide the course of my future and my life.

Not anymore. I’m not going to let them keep doing this.

Oh, and the good side? My first time doing something that I want to do. Taking control of my future. Never wishing for an e-mail, an invitation, not even a phone call again – can’t call a dead person, now can you? Never be lonely again. So many positive “nevers” to look over. Never be picked on again, never be spit on again, never be slapped or kicked again, an endless list of never.

I could stop now; maybe I could save myself. But I feel like I’m six years old again, hanging onto the handles of the big metal slide at school. I’m slipping down a slide, knowing there’s a big mud patch at the bottom where I’ll have to land. I’m holding on, pulling myself back up, but telling myself to let go and just deal with the mud.

I finally pull myself back up the slide and I think of going back down, but I don’t. I just push myself down the slide and I hit the mud patch. I ruin my clothing and shoes, but at least I have a temporary rush.

But now this is no temporary rush. I’m still standing up here at that slide, and I’m holding the handles and leaning forward. The second I let go, I’m falling, and I’m never going to get back up on my feet ever again.

I loosen up my fingers a little bit, and I hear the both of them yelling for me to stop what I’m doing and just slide down.

Why do they keep doing this? One tells me I want to jump, the other tells me I want to go through life. Now, I am about to jump as I am done going through my life, and they’re screaming at me to stop and think it all over.

What’s there to think? They’re holding me back. I’m not letting someone else decide the course of my life. It may have been that way before, but now it’s over. I have control over my death this way.

I start getting sleepy. She’s trying to make me dream again about the good times, isn’t she? I tell her it’s not going to work this time. She says she disagrees; she says if I just listen to her, everything will be okay – she says we can work through the rough parts.

He isn’t saying anything. I know he wants me to jump, but he’s scared of what her reaction will be when I do. I wish he would push me so it would be easier on the both of us.

She’s still screaming at me while I begin to loosen my fingers a lot more. They’re such loud screams I’m surprised the police haven’t showed up, thinking someone was stabbed to death.

She’s angry now. She says I’ll just dream forever, and that I’ll be even more miserable, because I’ll never experience that kind of happiness again.

I ask her what makes her think I ever did?

She stutters out of anger, and I do hear him say for me to let go. I like him better than her now.

She’s screaming again just once more that I can’t do this, that people will be hurt for the rest of their lives, and that I’m throwing away my life for nothing by letting go.

I didn’t have a life in the first place. So I lean a little bit farther out, and I close my eyes.

She stops screaming advice for me, she just screams no. She screams I can’t do it.

Two more times she screams. And I let go.

As I’m falling, maybe I’m thinking that she’s right; maybe I am just going to dream forever. Maybe I’ll just dream about being six years old and slipping down a slide. No. I don’t want to dream.

But, I’m not going to worry about this now.

I can only hope there’s enough head trauma to kill the dreams.