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Perception

Bright Sorrow

By Mae JupiterPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
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She whispers secret words as she stands on the roof top of the skyrise apartment building she’s lived in for the past two years. The sounds carry away on the wind as it whips around her, but the naked longing in her voice travels on the breeze to wrap around the pedestrians that stand on the sidewalk beneath her. They all still, they all inhale deeply and hold it, unknowingly responding to her call. They are mesmerized by her sorrow, though they can’t name the feeling as it blankets them and holds them captive. Above them, scalding tears leave a rosy trail down the slope of her cheek. She cups her hands together and holds them against the agony in her chest.

This girl. This girl. All she wants is to feel relief from the heartbreak that follows her around wherever she goes. All she wants is to feel the weight lifted off her and to take a step without feeling like she’s dragging her body through mud. She doesn’t need easy or simple. Just maybe, not so hard. But it’s been two years, and nothing has changed. She still carries around her past and her sorrow, she still inflicts both on all who get near her. She’s searched for answers and has found none…. Or rather, none that she could consider. Until now.

Now, she stands above the city and looks down at the frozen people below. She knows that she can’t deny it anymore, she knows what she must do. She can no longer justify the need for her to keep breathing. So, she closes her eyes, she closes her eyes and whispers her final words into the wind for no one and everyone to hear.

“I’m sorry, I am so sorry. I tried to be enough and I failed, but I promise you one thing. I failed for the last time.”

She smiles, the ache in her chest easing just a little at her confession, and she knows that soon she will be free from it all. The chains of humanity have been wrapped around her for too long and she feels this in the deepest, coldest part of her bones. This last step will be the first step in two years that she can take without the pressure dragging her down. She’s giving in to basest needs of her body, giving in to constant calling of her mind. She’s letting go for the first time in her life instead of holding on so tightly that she can’t breathe.

The wind howls in protest, though she is deaf to it. Birds, usually silent at night, sing a lullaby of protest to try and ease her back from the edge of the building. They swoop in front of her, but her eyes are still closed. All she feels is the cool air on her skin like a balm to the burning in her veins and the light of the stars on her eyelids, giving her the permission, she so desperately seeks. With her hands still cupped together on her chest, a smile still curving up her lips, tears streaking down her cheeks, she takes that final step.

There’s a snap. Audible to none but her. And as she falls, all her pain and sorrow and agony and longing seep from her skin and fly into the air. They streak across the night sky like shooting stars, lighting up the dark to illuminate the pedestrians below. In unison, all the people look up with wonder on their faces as they release that held breath. They all think one word, one word that describes why this girl could never heal, could never grow. This one word kept her stuck in limbo because everyone who saw her was mesmerized. Because her sorrow burned her so bright and so completely that she was,

“Beautiful.”

trauma
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