Stars

Stars

A Story by BrynnaW.
"

I had to find an article and write from the PoV of one of the people. This was the outcome of being in the PoV of a girl about to commit suicide (unfortunately).

"

The wind combs through my hair and it's the first peace I've felt in such a long time. The stars hanging from the sky, gentle breezes kissing my pale cheeks and cooling my fretting head. Up here, I have no worries. Up here, I feel peace. The perfect moment, with a not so perfect girl. No story has a happy ending, at least I can choose my best ending. Do it, something in my head keeps whispering to me but I just want one more moment, one more moment to relish the fading light behind the building and the hanging stars that never seem to let me down each night. Well, I'm sorry to let you down. I'm high up here, cars and a slab of concrete beneath me, damp from the sprinklers watering the bits of grass. What a lovely place to rest my aching head. Now, do it now, it's almost as if the wind is on my side, or perhaps it's pulling me away from the ledge. I flex my toes as if they're digging into the sand at the beach. That's so far away now, I've made my decision. But how did I get here? Come, come, I'll tell you. I'll spin a story of a not-so-perfect girl and her struggles but I will not offer you that happy ending. So, if you wish, stop now, don't read further. But if you do, don't let tears wet those cheeks, I am happier where I am.

Penn State. The only place in the world I wanted to be. All my hard work was finally paying off and sure I was happy the first month but something just wasn't right. My friends were elsewhere and I had a roommate but she could not recover all the memories I had made. Frequently I would sit at my desk in the dorm room, drumming my pen against the wood and looking out the window wondering what my friends were doing. I reflected the image of pure happiness but in reality, I was fighting inside myself. People will surely see my desk and run their fingers over the deep etches I carved into the wood out of desperation. They’ll make judgments based on my action and they won’t give me a moment to defend myself. I no longer wanted to be a part of track and maybe that's because I felt like I couldn't run from myself. It was supposed to give me a sense of freedom but only made me realize that no matter how far you run, you'll hit a barrier. And that barrier, it's yourself.

Everyone says I'll have a bright future, that I can do whatever I want but that isn't the truth now, is it? I tried a therapist, I reached out for help but I received none. What did you expect? I tried focusing on my grades, thought I failed it all but, somehow, I managed a 3.5. Stupid curves. You don't deserve it.

Battles with myself are daily. The angel on my shoulder seems to have disappeared; all I hold is the devil. Inside I'm scratching at my ribs, screaming behind my lips, and my heart beats for another. This is not me, this is not me. Let me out. The kid in the pictures, that's not me. Where am I? Where have I gone? My family took me to see a psychologist. They don't understand, no one understands, and none of them can prevent the inevitable. I see the fear behind their unblinking, watchful eyes. They judge me and wonder where they went wrong. But I'm in control, not them. What they say doesn't matter, all that matters is me. Right? Useless, worthless, no good girl. Just get out of my head!

My roommate often finds me in a corner of the room, my knees pulled to my chin, and my arms wound around them while I mutter incessantly under my breath. She tried to touch me, those grubby fingers of hers pressed into the flesh in my arm and I quickly snatched up her hand, revealing the pooling blood under my wrists. In that moment I could see fear in her eyes. I enjoyed it. The fear gave me a purpose to life, it gave me a chance to be someone different and a lewd smile crept onto my pale lips and her fingers slipped from my grasp. Not long after, I fell limp on the floor, my deranged laugh changing into a desperate cry. Get up. Smile.

Music makes everything better, it's a ritual for the insane. When I'm alone I like to blare it in the room and dance in circles, hoping that I can break free from this confining body. Sometimes it feels like someone is watching me even though it looks like I'm alone. I'll be walking down the path from the school and I can feel their cold, peering eyes. I see couples together, leaning on the benches with their arms wrapped around each other. They act as though they cannot be without the other but then, how did they live before? Hypocrites all of them. If they were to die someone would care, but me? Would anyone notice? No one cares about you.

When into walk into town, the peering eyes become more prevalent. These eyes hold my secrets, they know who I am, they know what I've done. I purposely take a new path every day, I never know if they'll block me at certain points. They want my last breath, they want to hear me scream, they want to free the demons I harbor. I am me, I am me. I am no one. I'm trapped, I'm free. Listen to me!

Just an hour ago I made my way to town, dodging those eyes and buying gifts. I'm sorry, aren't I? Gifts will make it better, they'll know it's not my fault. Shut up, shut up, shut up! Let's make them, cry let's make them regret everything. Let's make them hurt. I ran into a coach from another University I had previously applied to, he must know what I'm doing. He's eyeing my bag, run, run. He seems happy to see me, just another person who won't care when I'm gone. Eyes, somewhere, eyes. I said goodbye, hoping my smile would contrast the panic and distress and desperation scrawled on my face. Calm, be calm, you'll be free soon.

1 step, 2, 3 steps, four. My fate is ever near. It took 468 steps total to make it to the ninth story of the parking garage. I might as well count since it’ll be the last I ever do. Strangely, out of excitement or fear, the very thing that holds my life began to beat wildly in its cage. I pressed a clammy hand over my heart, relishing the few beats it would have left. I am using up a life that doesn't belong to me, a life I don't deserve. There's a warmth from my chest, unfamiliar to me since the cold has spread throughout my body for many months. I am not in control. Stop stalling. There will be no turning back from this. But wait, yes, I am in control. I am where I want to be. The stars can see that. Those peering eyes above, they know me well. Soon, I will also be a star in that sky. This heart, something I had once cursed for its continuous beats at night, I treasure it. Life is beautiful and I've used up mine. I'm ready to go. Don't cry for me, don't let those tragic tears burn your delicate cheeks. I am happy that these are going to be my last moments. No more struggling. Just do it.

My bare feet lift me onto the perimeter of the ninth floor. The breeze greets me and dries the many tears that have left scars on my face. I spread my arms wide, gathering everything into one hug like my final goodbye to the world. Don't think, just jump. The stars will not twinkle for me like they had when I was a child. Once I’m a star, though, once I am hanging above the night sky, I will be the brightest  and I will enjoy the best view; the moon as my father and the other lost souls, my brothers and sisters. I lean forward for a moment to take in what lies beneath me and my toes curl to grip the edge but I realize what I'm doing and let go. I have no need for fear or pain. Do it, do it. Death is below me. His arms are almost welcoming but his face is as cloaked as the night sky. If stars are strong enough that they can break free from deaths cloak over the sky than so can I. I am strong enough to make the leap. I close my eyes and tuck my chin to my chest and spread my fingers wide by my sides. I am sorry. I balance on one foot, the other stretched out as if to take another step and I am, I'm stepping toward the night sky; the impact, never felt. An end to the incessant beating in my chest but a beginning to the beautiful twinkle amid death's crowded cloak.

© 2015 BrynnaW.


Author's Note

BrynnaW.
There are like chunks of this that I'm really disappointed in but (and not to sound prideful) I do feel like I do have some very good chunks as well that are unusual and well thought out.

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Added on April 15, 2015
Last Updated on April 15, 2015

Author

BrynnaW.
BrynnaW.

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My name is Brynna Wynne Wiley. Aka: BrynnaW. I'm supposed to tell all about myself right here but... I've done that before. Now, it's just about the writing. more..

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