Every cliché known to man couldn’t possibly help me out right now. I’ve tried a series of things, and then I’ve tried them all again. Nothing seems to work. I am still here, at the very top of a fifty-story high skyscraper, standing on its ledge looking down.
I look back, biting my lip and think about what I am about to leave behind. Everything. My free spirit lurks somewhere behind the water tank that is perched on top of this skyscraper. It’s a façade. This whole building is a façade. Exactly like this place in my life. Don’t get me wrong. This building is beautiful. It has no imperfections, no flaws; it is not tainted in the least. There is not a single crack in any of the glass panels. None of the metal is scratched. Its surface is impeccable.
Yet, I now think of what it is like on the inside. It is tarnished, ravaged and appalling. Why not? I think. The plumbing and the wiring were not meant to be seen by anyone. Yet without it this structure would not function.
I think about myself. Tainted, tarnished, ravaged. I am at the threshold of letting go. But do I really want to. I was none of those things before. My foundation, my structure and well for the most part my ‘plumbing and wiring’ were neat, clean and presentable at any given time and place. But these cracks were not placed by me. No. It was like I had rented myself out to a real estate contractor hoping he would better me. I did not realize that he was on contract and his job needed to be done fast. Instead of taking the time to re-model and re-structure, he stuck with his contract and haphazardly did what he thought was a decent job. His ‘decent job’ left me with scratches and fractures. Not the best of contractors I’ll admit. But I have never picked them. They always seem to pick me. I am their protégé.
I shake it all off. Every bit of it I shake off. I yearn to hold on but I realize there is no point. My mentor has moved on. My mentor has now taken his expertise elsewhere.
I have to get out of here I tell myself. I have to spit out all that I have swallowed for it has no nutrition, no nourishment.
I look down from the ledge. I look back again. I shut my eyes tight and count till five.
Then I jump.
I fall.
Five feet.
Fifteen feet.
Thirty feet.
Forty-five.
I fall all fifty feet.
I hit the ground hard. Yet no pain has been inflicted on me. I pull myself off the floor and dust of any remnants of my fall. I look back up to where I started. There is no remorse. No regret. I feel whole again: it only took me those fifty feet to find closure.
