Clouds of Heaven

I always struggled in life and have finally grown tired of trying to fit into the mold of normal behavior. It was enough for me that I just was. Aspirations and success are a moronic goal in life that I failed to embrace.

I guess that is why I find myself on the ledge of a sixty-eight-story building, December thirty first at 11:59 pm. I didn’t want any chance of survival, plus the view is spectacular, cold but freak'n beautiful.

I cannot think of a better way to welcome in the new year than hitting the pavement at exactly midnight. I'll be the first person to die in the new year or the last to die this year. Either way not a bad note in the record book.

The chill wind whips around me, like it understands my intentions and is willing to assist in my demise. The timing of the leap is critical if I wish to achieve my New years eve goal. When the ball drops do I start, or do I wait till the count down of ten?

Three, two, one, SPLAT ....Happy New Year!

Love it.

Oddly enough, even though I hated life I love math. There is something solid and identifying about it. Math is true and doesn't lie, oh sure it can be manipulated like the rest of us but not if we are honest about it, the numbers are factual, and I love that.

Why do I mention math? Because I needed it to calculate the exact time when to make my leap.

Sixty-eight floors ten feet per floor equals Six hundred and eighty feet. Using the kinematic equation: My Final speed equals initial speed plus acceleration time. Taking my weight into consideration and I'll be traveling nearly one hundred and forty-two point five miles per hour it will take approximately six point five seconds to fall sixty-eight floors at impact, assuming no unusual air resistance.

Therefore, if I take my final step at the count down of seven, it will take the point five seconds to begin the actual descent.

Oh, glorious math, It is the only thing in this life I ever trusted.

I certainly couldn’t trust my old man, who refused to deal with me, saying I was too weird to be part of his gene pool. Or my mother who kept seeking medical assistance, thinking the answer was to pump me full of medication. She said it works for her.

I prepare myself, as the digital clock flashes its continuous decline announcing thirty second to midnight, twenty-three seconds to freefall.

My God, it is truly spectacular up here, the lights go on forever, dark clouds slowly drift across the crescent moon, and from up here even the city lights cannot dim the brightness of the stars. The air is clean and there are no sounds from the city life below, nor do I hear the yells and cheers from the multitudes of gathering folk ready to welcome another year. There is only a steady hum. I now understand the lure of mountain climbing.

The peace is unbelievable.

I should have tried it, then again I really am not the outdoor type, give me a computer any day.

I step upon the ledge, feeling the buffeting winds pushing me forward, I steady myself and glance down. The view is surreal. Knowing there are people gathered below, I chose an area that is visible for all to witness but will not harm any one physically. They are here to celebrate what they hope will be a new beginning.

These poor souls, hope a clock counting down the seconds of a shitty year, will give them a chance for happiness. Most will eventually dismiss their goals in less than thirty days. Only to claim next year will be their year.

I no longer have that hope.

A feeling of vertigo consumes me as my stomach churns with anticipation or perhaps from my choice of a last meal. The mighty Burrito expels forcefully, the invisible hand of God scatters the mass into nothingness.

I wish I had a drink of water right about now, perhaps I should step down and get some, just to freshen my mouth.

"No, finish this tonight, you coward." I scream.

It was that yell into the empty sky that brought reality crashing back down to me.

I don't want to die; I am just so tired of being alone and living like this. Maybe medication will work. Perhaps there is someone out there for me. Someone who understands my unique characteristics. Maybe I should buy a dog, I could never abandon an animal who counts on me.

Relief floods my soul as the count down begins, ten...nine..

I turn to step down onto safer ground.

It is then fate intervenes in the form of a gust of wind, and damp concrete. Before I realize what is happening I am free falling, flying in a fashion that would cause a bird to shake their tiny heads in a dismissive attitude.

The stone-cold building rushes past like a blur, sounds of my own voice muted in the roar of the wind. My arms flap madly, I am as useless as an ostrich in flight.

Suddenly a powerful force steers me up and closer to the building, an updraft, the fear I had of miscalculating was real. Now I'll be just another fool who fell on New Years eve.

Spreading my arms wide I rise, I am seriously rising upward, then down. I watch helplessly as concrete and glass rush to meet me. Like a plastic bag caught in a draft, I'm helplessly tossed about on the whims of an unseen force.

I shut my eyes in anticipation of the pain to come.

I am a broken butterfly caught in the palm of fate, this action is no longer in my control, as if it ever were. I feel myself hurtling sideways ready to smash into the wall, yet it is softer than I imagine. The pain feels no more than as if I was tossed and landed on the billowy clouds of heaven.

I am no longer moving.

I must be floating in between the sweet here after and purgatory. I will meet my death with bravery, I am not a coward, even though my actions say otherwise.

The mind is a wonderous thing to hide the pain. It is with relief that the smell of brimstone is not present. Instead, I inhale the sweet scent of lilac and lavender, Which I can only assume means that the gates of angels have opened for me.

Accepting my death, I blink, peering into a hazy fog and realize the clouds of heaven look and feel very much like a mattress on earth

I am about to call out to my Saviour's when I hear the sweetest voice exclaim in a less than angelic tone. "What the fuck!"

My eyes fly fully open, and I find myself staring into the most beautiful green orbs. I'm lying next to a beautiful woman, on a mattress, on a balcony overlooking the city skyline.

My mind wonders on what the odds are of me being swept onto this veranda, while plummeting from above and landing on a mattress, next to a beautiful girl and with little to no injuries. I mean, my arm looks a little weirdly bent but other than that , all good.

I quickly begin the calculations if I take speed times wind velocity and…fuck it who cares.

As the fireworks begin to light up the night sky, there really is only one thing I can say.

"Happy New Year?"

I found out later that Celia always brought her mattress onto the balcony every December thirty first. This is how she welcomes in the year by gazing and sleeping under the stars. A tradition her father did with their family, one that her and I continue to observe with ours.