CHOICES

Mila’s gaze was placed in the clouds for at least two hours by now. The cigarette, hanging in the corner of her lips, slowly dying. Automatically, she closed her eyes for a second and inhaled deeply, only to let a tiresome sigh escape from the mouth. Even there at the rooftop she wouldn’t feel any kind of ease at all; not there at the work, at home, or any other place whatsoever. Then, she noticed the cigarette had gone dead, and so she was, for quite some time now; a living corpse without any other option than to continue existing without wishing so.

Seated at the edge of the grayish concrete, moving the eyes either to skies above to the streets below, Mila felt something growing inside her core. A trade in regard to some inner peace, for God’s sake. A replacement. Not that she never had thought about that before, cause she did, plenty of times. But never having enough courage to do so.

“I wouldn’t miss a thing”, thought to herself quietly. The burnt tip of the cigarette undoing itself, falling into ashes at her lap.

Mila felt the pulses of the heart increasing as she inclined a little bit more forward, to have a proper look at the height separating her from the ground down below. Yes, it was definitely high, to the point of causing your stomach to twist. As so, then another thought invaded her mind: would it hurt that much?

That’s one of the many scenarios making part of some of the idealizations of hers, before falling asleep. But one thing was to fantasize, another was to be facing the elements of those fantasies in real life. In the end, it was only up to Mila. The decision was upon her hands. Inclining a little be more, throwing the weight of the body forward as an impulse, and all of that’d end. Right? Because some people believe so; that, somehow, dying will solve the problems, dilemmas, traumas; as if death could erase all the negativity like some kind of magic. Would this day be the one of the vanishing of all misfortune in Mila’s life? Would she be brave enough to take that one step into the void of death?

For a moment she felt the rush of adrenaline running in her veins, as taking that option as a tangible possibility. She imagined the feeling of her body on the brief travel in the air, falling directly into the floor; and with that being said, Mila dared to go further. She pictured herself laid on the ground as she’d still feel life leaving her body; she imagined the pain that’d be to have all of the bones miserably broken, the irreversible damage in her brain, the agonizing pain before dying. Was she ready for this? To fight against the sense of self-preservation within her genes and leave it all behind?

With some sense of embarrassment, stepping back from the edge, she didn’t even need to think. No. She wasn’t ready, as she wasn’t on some past occasions. Maybe she’ll never be. As shitty as her life has been. Everytime those ideas came into her mind, and when she’d considered just going away, it would always end up like this; the shame of the thought of acting against herself, the shame of not being capable to do so. And in between the only thing to do was to hide these conflicts within her soul and keep going on with life.

Mila threw away the cigarette and cursed. Yes, she’s annoyed at herself for many reasons. Probably will be alive for the rest of the day, go home, and wake up the next morning to start over. Thank God, damn God, she isn't sure anymore. It has not made much sense lately to ask those kinds of questions. All in all, it’s all a bunch of nonsense as life generally is.