11th post

It is cold up here on this ledge, and I haven’t brought my coat. I don’t think I’ll be needing it. This shouldn’t take long. The thing is, I don’t know what to think, really. Sometimes…Sometimes I think this is probably too dramatic. It doesn’t matter that much. But it does. That’s why I’m here.

The ground is there, beneath me. And my breath ghosts in and out. I thought it would be windier, but the little puffs just float and kind of…dissipate. The snot running from my nose is really cold. Colder than the stray snail tracks these infrequent, shattered tears leave as wakes.

There is a note. There is always a note. It is on my iPhone. In the coat in the locker in the hall that is behind me and to the left. It was too long to text, so I saved it as a memo. They’ll find it. I look at myself wondering, ‘when will they find it?’ and kind of laugh. In that totally detached way you laugh at absurd things. Like when you have too much to drink and are maybe a little high and find yourself kissing people and feeling them up and then it’s like you know that they’re boys too and it doesn’t matter because you feel good and don’t care that people see it because they all had drinks and they must feel good too, so you laugh.

And I want to laugh. But it comes out like a choked laugh, a strangled, drowned laugh that is clinging to a sob to make it out of the water and then it swirlpools down into the sky and the street and the kids down there playing. Remember when it was you down there playing and everything was so simple? You just want it to be like that again, just once more. You didn’t look up and see the big, wide, grey sky ready to swallow it all up. It was just you and your friends and then it’s weird that you’re this detached from it all and you’re talking to yourself like this in the third person remembering like with yourself likeyouweresomeoneelse.

So it’s simple to be back down there with the little kids again. And they are so much smaller now than they used to be. It’s funny. I didn’t think it would be like this; that I just wanted to be a kid again. But there it is, and it’s the truth. I can’t really hear them, and they’re so tiny and innocent.

Then it gets real windy. And those little kids get so much bigger so fast. And it isn’t true; I do not want to be a kid again. I want to be an old man, but now I know that’s not gonna happen. And they aren’t innocent either. They were talking about sucking dicks when I showed up.