Scratch

A piece of writing, off the top of my head 

There I lie, gazing absent-mindedly up at the stars. I was slowly realising that this could be the last time I saw the vast deep-blue blanket of the sky, the last time I had a moment to gather my thoughts, and remember.
It's so quiet; so peaceful. There is nothing here - just me, and fields that stretch for miles around me. There is a cool breeze blowing in off the sea, yet I am so worked-up and twitchy I feel as if I'm roasting in an oven. My fringe is obscuring my eyes, so I automatically flick it away; and warily heave myself up off the fine grass. For a split second, I feel a little lost: but when I work out which direction the sound of the ocean is coming from, I stumble forwards like a robot, lead only by the soothing sound of the sea.
I'm being tipped over the edge of sanity.
It's so awful being weighed down by worry, anxiety, stress. My shoulders are tensed and I'm shaking uncontrollably. Every time a seagull cries out, soaring through the bejeweled skies; I jump - frozen with panic. I clench my fists, hoping that I can get a grip on myself; yet my fears become increasingly irrational. I let out a shrill cry as a wave batters the cliff-face, I nibble my fingernails fearfully, terrified of running into a drunk or a psycho; preying on girls like me out late...
What time is it? I've lost track. I lift up my trembling wrist, and examine my watch. The monotonous ticking is driving me crazy, and my achy eyes won't focus for long enough to tell the time. All I can work out is that it is VERY late.
Why, oh why did they have to be so cruel? No-one understands the pain I am suffering, the pure heartache. I am dying inside - I have no future. My life is no purpose, I am pointless. I will end it all NOW.
It's not like anyone will notice I am gone. My family may feel the odd pang of grief, a slight void in their lives when they peer sadly at family photos. I would be my parent's forgotten daughter, tragically taken from them by Death. They would be upset at first, but time would heal the wounds.
I'm going to do it.
There's no going back.
I edge ever closer to the cliff's edge. The sea air is bracing - it washes over my face and helps clear my mind. My short skirt billows out behind me, and my hair is tangled; manipulated by the wind. I shuffle to the edge, carefully prying the fence posts apart - the fence posts intended to stop suicidal people from jumping.
It's pathetically easy to make it to the VERY edge of the cliff. I lean forward, beads of sweat gathering on my brow. I can see the beach below, changing huts organised in neat red and blue rows. They look like ants from here. I hope I land somewhere discreet, it would be so embarrassing if someone found my mangled body next to an ice-cream kiosk, or somewhere exposed...
Why am I fussing about such trivial matters at a time like this? I'm just delaying everything. Tears pouring down my face, I turn around; careful not to slip over the edge, or let any rock crumble beneath me. I wave in our hotel's general direction, then face the ocean... close my eyes, and pray.
I take one last refreshing gulp of salty sea-air, whisper my final goodbyes. Looking to the sky, I lift one foot from the slippery rock, but am somehow off-balance by the violent sound of crashing waves far below.
I feel half-dead with shock, so I take my chance. I feel faint, as I haven't taken a breath for what seemed an eternity. I'm slipping out of consciousness. But it doesn't matter, it doesnt matter...
So I hurl myself off the cliff.
It feels like I'm flying, the wind blowing on my face...
The ground is near...oh God...





Silence.



What do you think?