The Jump

So I've been playing around with this scenario in my head, with the idea that I'd write a full novel out of it someday. Last night I reached a point where I didn't know where to go with it, and I ended up imaging my main character, who was sad and lonely, reciting this scene she'd made up to help her through her tough times.

I stand at the edge with the toes of my shoes hanging over ever so slightly. I stare down at the water lapping below, 50, 60, maybe 70 feet away. Waiting, for its next victim. I feel the wind whipping my face. I shut out the rest of the world, who seems completely unaware of me standing here, on the verge of life and death, as they rush from one place to the next in their own lives. All that I know of right now is me, and the waiting water below.

My life, filled with such a mix of happiness, sadness, anger and depression, is overwhelming. True, happiness has thrived in me, but not for long. Instead, I feel depression, loneliness, abandonment. So much, that it doesn't matter what I do anymore, I know no one will care, right? Death seems such an easier option that having to deal with the constant pain. In fact, its almost a blessing.
I start to think about it. The fall. What will I think of as I fall? What will my last thoughts be? Will I think about the past, everything I've been through, whether happy or sad? Will I think about the future, what I could've had, what would've been? What about the ones I love, or even hate? Will they cross my mind as I pierce the sky, plummeting downward? There are too many things I want to think about, which one would I decide to think of last?
Then I think about the impact on the water. I cross my arms over my chest. Will it hurt? If so, how much? How long? Will it be a bearable pain? Would it be enough to kill me? Or would I sit there, floating in the water, in pain, waiting for someone to notice me, save me, just so I can go back to my life of suffering? What if it didn't hurt, if I died instantly. Or maybe I wouldn't. I would just be so numb from all my other feelings, I wouldn't feel a thing.
For a split second, I imagine me beginning to plummet before I was ready to. Whether it be someone pushing me off, my foot slipping, or me losing my balance and falling off. Once my feet leave that ledge, once I lean over too far, there's no turning back. I can do nothing but wait for the impact as I fall. Shaking, I shuffle my feet backwards a little, so that they no longer hang off the edge. I grab a nearby object so tight my knuckles turn white. Just to be safe. Just until I'm ready.
I begin to think of the people I will leave behind. The ones I loved, the ones that loved me, if any of them did. I try to be reasonable and say there was. What would their lives be like without me? Would they miss me? Would their lives change? What about my brothers and sister? Who would they have to look up to? What kind of influence would I be, jumping off a bridge, taking the easy way out? I know they would want to follow, because I am their role model. But do I really want to make them think its okay?
What if I had told people what I was planning on doing? What if I told my friends and family I was going to jump off a bridge? What would they say? How would they react? Which ones would react with a half-hearted response, and which ones would go out of their way, doing everything they could, to convince me I was making the wrong choice? Which ones would be here right now, trying to pull me away from the edge, yelling at me I was doing the wrong thing, restricting me from going over? I ask myself, who would have to tell me I was wrong for me to listen? What would they have to do, how far would they have to go, for me to realize the error in my thinking? Would anyone be able to do that? Maybe, but in the end, its my choice. I would have to decide, not them.
I think back to my reason for doing this. Why am I doing this? Because I'm lonely? Because I'm in pain? Or am I doing it to show people how much they hurt me? Vengeance, is that what this is? What would it do, if I jumped? Perhaps it would get my point across, yes, but then it'd be too late. I'd leave all those people I know filled with guilt, resentment, regret. They'd realize what they had been to ignorant to realize, but then it'd be too late. And they would have to live with that, that feeling that it was all their fault.
Was it their fault, or was I, am I, just overreacting? Am I making this situation too extreme? Too intense, too over-the-top? Isn't there any easier way to show people how I feel? Would they listen? There's a chance they won't, and then I'd have to go back to feeling that pain again. So, would it really be worth it, this jump? Would it make the impact I want it to make? Did I really want to leave everything behind, or just change everything?  Would I regret my decision later, thinking about the life I could've had, but instead I decide to end it before my time had come?
As I thought about this, I realized maybe, just maybe, I was taking the wrong perspective. I tried putting myself in someone else's shoes, someone close to me, watching me suffer, watching me plummet to my death. I felt agony in my heart, a piercing, striking emptiness, where that person once lived. There must be an easier, safer, less intense way to go about this. How much would it take to get people to listen to me? Whatever it is, it must be better than this, right? Standing here, with death right in front of my eyes, calling to me, luring me away from life, promising an easier, less painless future. But in the back of my mind, my life screams at me, telling me to come back, promising me it can please me once more.
I blink a few times, and realize I have tears flowing from my eyes, rolling down my cheeks. I watch through blurred vision as one drops off my chin and falls, falls, falls, all the way to the water, where it makes the smallest little splash, vanishing forever. That's all it would take. Just a little splash, then all my troubles gone forever.
But no, they wouldn't. My troubles wouldn't vanish. They would just become someone else's problems. Instead of vanishing forever, they would shift from me to someone close to me. I couldn't stand to watch them suffer with the pain I suffer. It wouldn't be right, wouldn't be fair. I love my family, my friends, far too much to leave them with such a huge burden.
I release my grip on the object and lean forward ever so slightly. I start coming back to my senses, back to reality. In the distance, I think I hear people shouting, screaming, but the words are inaudible. Somewhere, I think I hear the whir of a helicopter, too.
I take in a large breath of air, taking in the smells of the water, my hair, life, death, emotion. I straighten my back again and back away from the edge. I turn and walk away, following the path the bridge makes. I realize people are reaching out to me, calling to me, asking me questions. But I don't acknowledge them. I'm too busy thinking about the future, about what I plan on doing. I begin to compose  the discussion I am going to have, the steps I am going to take, to make my life the way I want it to be.

I hope this helps anyone who thinks their life isn't good enough, that death is the easy way out, that there are better ways to go. And that jumping off a bridge isn't the right solution.