To Feel Alive You Have to (Almost) Die

Of course he thought about suicide sometimes. He didn't think of it in a way of someone who seriously wanted to kill himself, but sometimes he caught himself realising how fragile life was, how quickly it could be destroyed, ruined. He was sure most people feared death, it was natural after all, to fear the unknown and nothing was as unknown as just death.

What he feared about death wasn't really the unknown aspect of it, no, he feared the loss of control. He wanted to control his own life, and his own death. He knew the thought would sound absurd if he told anyone about it. 'You can't control death!' they would say. 'Everyone dies, it's not something you can control.' That's why he thought about suicide sometimes, because it was the ultimate way of controlling your own death! He did realise that he could walk across the road the next day and get hit by a car and die, but just the knowledge that he could take his own life and by that control his own death was comfort enough.

There were those days when he needed to feel alive, needed to feel that what he did, that his life wasn't pointless, that it wasn't just leaving him empty and dead inside, like it sometimes felt after a shitty day, a shitty concert. Those days he would go to any high building and get as far up as he could, preferably out on the roof if it was possible. He would stand at the edge of the roof, or leaning out of a window, just feeling the wind in his face, feeling his heart beat rapidly. The knowledge that he could jump if he wanted to was enough to make him feel alive, make him feel in control.

It was enough, because somewhere deep inside he knew that he never really would jump.