Break Free & Be Broken by Eros Winter

reached the top. From here, I can see to the valley below. I stare out at all the lights-the way they blast out to mix with the low clouds and gentle snow... The city looks like the dying embers of some great fire. I muse for a second about what it would be like to watch a meteor shower hit from here, or some kind of aerial assault. That would be cool to watch. I hope if that ever happens, I'm in the mountains with a view of it all.
    But wait: unless it happens now, it will never happen for me. Stop thinking of the future! The future is now. This is all that ever was and will be. Get your mind right, Chales! The moment of truth is here.
    I inch my way toward the edge of the cliff. Fear of falling presses up against me like a wall, stopping me a solid three feet from the edge. Not a good sign.
    I'm nervous, that's all. And I've got just the remedy. A trickle of excitement-the first positive thing I've felt since reaching the canyon-works its way from my toes to my nose. Drug time baby.
    I reach into my pocket and pull out the necessary items for getting high. It would have been nice to have a fresh piece of foil. Hell, if I would have remembered I needed this before burning everything I might have even made a fresh straw. But what's with the bitching? This is more than sufficient for a high.
    Snowflakes fall lightly onto the foil as I prepare my tar, immediately becoming water when they land. It captivates me. I picture myself turning into liquid form when I hit the ground. When the snow does it, it looks peaceful. I hope it's that way for me.
    I become so calm I'm compelled to stop and consider the entire situation. I look down at the drug in my hand... This stupid shit right here has been a thorn in my side for too long! At Death’s doorstep, I finally get to see my heroine for what she really is. An enemy, through and through, and the worst kind!- the kind that appeared as a friend. What could I have been if I never picked up a drug? Where could life have taken me?
    If I hadn't had drugs, maybe discomfort would have forced me to do something with myself! Discomfort was never the enemy... heroine was the enemy! Rather than accepting poison situations because I'm high, I could have fought, surpassed, and beat this world!
    I stop the tirade. These thoughts are empty. I know what would have happened to me if I hadn't had drugs. I would have done this years ago. I want to die with drugs; I likely would have wanted the same without. There is no going back, no replaying life again from a different position to see what could have been. I may have been better, I may have been worse. What matters is I'm shitty now and it's time to jump.
    There's no place for a high at a low such as this. I pile all my paraphernalia onto the foil and crumple it into a mass of condensed hate. With a strong heave, I launch it over the cliff. It isn't joy that greets me with this victory. No... I assure you it isn't joy. I almost jump right along with it, so grieved I am to see it go. I watch it sail down until it disappears beyond sight. Next in line to go over the edge is none other than me: Chales Bartholomew Anthon, the crippled clown... the big stink...
    Can I do this?
    Unlikely... but it's too late not to try.
    I start creeping toward the edge. A gentle breeze blows against my back, as if trying to aid me in this moment of trepidation. I might need you to blow a little harder, friend, for I am still a lengthy foot from the edge and can't seem to take another step.
    What the hell am I doing? Why am I so scared? This is what I want, remember? Escape! Freedom! I want this! I NEED THIS! I begin to hyperventilate-big, quick breaths, both in and out.
    This is it. Come on baby, big jump! Cast yourself as deep as you can! Let your bones shatter and your heart find rest on the rocks below!
    I scoot forward-a disheartened shuffle. I make it all the way to the edge and stop. Every system in my body is screaming with adrenaline and fear. The winds pick up,