sonder

jump

They asked, "If she jumped off a cliff, would you jump too?"

Well, here's your answer.

I stand, wind whipping my dark waves away from my pale face, staring out to the opalescent, open ocean.

Jump.

My eyes are glaring wide, not with fear though, almost as if I'm challenging something, someone, to deter me from my thoughts.

But no one is coming.

Nothing can stop me.

Jump.

She was my best friend. She is my best friend.

I always said I would follow her to the edge of the Earth. Now I am.

But she broke my fragile heart in two, you see, and now I can't fix it. Nothing can.

You'd think I'd be crying. Tears, filled with panic and hysteria, streaming down my sunken skin as I bid the world my last goodbye.

That's not what's happening. Since she left, all I feel is a numb ache spread through my body, running through my veins and intertwining with my soul.

I feel kinda dead already, it's a morbid thought, I know, but also kinda peaceful.

Here, now, all I'm doing is breathing.

In and out. Long, slow intakes of oxygen, filling my lungs. My heart's beating. My brain is functioning.

But... not for long.

Jump.

It's easy, just one more step. Simple.

My bare feet curl against the rocky edge, digging their way into the ground as though I'm planning to grow roots.

Jump.

I wonder what they'd think. That I was going too far, probably. That I was a naive little girl, with no clue as to what I was doing.

But I know.

I know a lot of things actually.

I know what the square root of 8649 is. (It's 93). I know that the nucleus controls the cells. I know that Shakespeare was a genius. And I know, that no matter what anyone else says, no boy - or girl for that matter - will ever break your heart as much as your best friend can.

When I first met her, in music class, the first day of high school, I never thought it would've turned out like this.

And if I'm honest, I still wouldn't have changed a single moment.

Her golden hair would always be perfectly curled, bright aquamarine eyes gleaming, and you'd know where she was a mile off because you'd be able to hear her laughing her face off. She was the definition of flawless. And for some brilliant reason, she decided to let me join her in her spectacular adventures.

You could meet every single worn out soul on the planet and still never meet someone quite as amazing as her.

I hope she knew that. But I guess it's too late to say...

Jump.

The whispers in my mind tell me to turn, to sprint back home and curl up in my cosy bed, never to leave again.

But that would be pointless. Useless. Hopeless. I'd still be miserable.

I grip my white skirt down against my battered, bruised knees, as though flashing to a seagull is my main concern right now. The breeze is picking up and the crisp, salty sea smell streams into my nose, I can almost taste it.

I hear the birds squawking and chirping away, unaware of the jealousy emitting from me. How blissful would it be to fly? To be able to leap and soar off the ground. To get away with such ease.

Maybe if I jump I can fly.

Just Jump.

I remember one time, her and me, snuck into the club on Highland Street. It was a tight squeeze through the window and the bouncer saw us, clearly underage, and threw us out. But it was one heck of a night - and I'm utterly thankful for it.

Without her, I'm sure I'd still be the same quiet girl with her nose in a book, unable to speak up in class for the agonising fear of being wrong.

I miss her so much.

All my thoughts, all of my dreams and plans and ideas are wasted without her to tell them to.

I get why George gave up the dream when he shot Lennie.

Jump.

Why is this so hard?

It shouldn't be this difficult.

There's still no tears. My misty grey eyes are still emotionless, although my hands are scrunched together so tight, I think my nails are causing my palms to bleed.

I don't want to look down. I don't want to detach my eyes from the line of the horizon, the view's too beautiful to look away. All the shades of blue, merging the sea with the sky.

I sigh and with great effort, I peel my gaze to find I was right. Each hand has four, straight, bleeding lines dotted across my hand, looking as though a name should be signed there.

I force my hands to my sides, breathing in and hearing the rustle of trees from behind.

I turn, thinking that someone could have possibly emerged from the lining of evergreens - my heart does a little tumble.

It's just a squirrel.

Of course nobody would come, nobody knows I'm here. Although, no one would care too much. Many of my 'friends' disappeared when she did. They ignored me, refusing to acknowledge my existence when she was no longer by my side.

What a sad story I am.

I turn back, facing the sea.

Jump.

My parents would always use the line, "If your friends jumped off a cliff, would you?" They said she was a bad influence. They said she was trouble. They didn't know her like me. And they never knew me, not like she did.

I shake my head, trying to remove any thoughts of my family.

I won't let one fragment of doubt come between me and her. Not ever.

Oh mum, your answer is yes, of course I'd jump if she did.

Of course I will.

I take a deep breathe, finally allowing my eyes to close.

One foot forward.

I jump.