Wind whizzes past, rocketing upwards to make room for him. His shirt flutters violently, like a kite soaring high in the backdrop of a clear summer sky. Birds, with their silhouette, would have beautified the scene , but he was otherwise. He was a blot on an immaculate canvas. A tiny speck of dust in the vast blue expanse. A miniscule spot that no one cares to notice, or acknowledge.
Thoughts rolled. They flowed and ebbed. Here, of all places, he could think clearly. Now, of all times, he could reason. Had he done this before, he wouldn’t have been there again. But there’s no coming back to this place.
He felt sorry for no one, but for himself. A pathetic life that touched no one. It was never his fault, and he never blamed himself for it. If it were, it would’ve been possible to solve, but it wasn’t.
He flushed away memories and stripped himself of feelings. A clean slate. Not to start afresh, but to end it once and for all.
The freedom that this flight gave him was lovely. The frosty wind was invigorating. With no one there to question him or criticize, he innately found peace. He was finally one with himself. He was finally…free.
The buoyance was thinning by the moment, much like his resilience over the past few years. It melted off over time and trickled down to this.
His momma once said, “Don’t do something that’ll you’ll later regret.” He wasn’t.