If I were to die, it wouldn't be by jumping.
I'm high on the cliff,
where the turquoise sea gently beckons to me.
I take deep breaths, and tell myself it will be okay.
I put one foot ahead of me, then another.
I look down, close my eyes and I leap far from the cliff.
It's not slow,
like some people say.
And I'm not screaming, I just wait for the rush to hit me.
It's fast, and too suddenly, I hit the water.
My bathing suit feels like its being pulled away,
and so much force goes up my nose.
I go up the cliff again,
this time unafraid.
This time, wanting to see everything as I go.
I jump, and embrace the whistling wind,
and the thrill of just falling.
But again, I realize, I've hit the water too soon.
I didn't see the world around me,
and I couldn't hear the people shouting.
I look up at the cliff, and become aware,
that I can jump a thousand times,
and still it wouldn't be enough.
So what if I jumped, so I could die?
That would be it.
I would hit the ground,
only to never jump again.