Unless

'You will never know until you try' they say.

Then what about dying.

A question that He asks himself in the morning when he woke up.

what about drowning?

can I try?

Don't they say that none of us will leave this world alive?

Andrian was sad.

Not sad for deciding to leave this life, but for not doing what his mom told him before she left the world. It was for him like cheating on his mom.

His mom's last words were "live happily ".

But to his and her misfortune, her son couldn't, he doesn't have a single happy reason to make him laugh again.

"I'm sorry mom, but I couldn't find what you told me " he muttered unďer his breath, clutching his mom's necklace where his mom's picture was on.

he got up and walked to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. his eyes were bloodshot from crying and lack of sleep, his hair is now matted and full of knots and he's still wearing the clothes he had on yesterday.

He sighed and decided to take a shower. After taking a shower, he decided to put on black shorts and a red hoodie. He was handsome from the depth of his eyes to the gentle expressions of his voice. He was handsome from his generous opinions.

He sighed and goes towards his small kitchen and got a bottle of water, his phone, earphones, and key. he walked out of his house and locked the door. he started to walk to the cemetery, it was the only place he goes to. After what felt like an hour's walk he was finally at the entrance of the cemetery.

And here he was, crying over his mom in the cemetery.

As much as he tried to hold it in, the pain came out like an uproar from his throat in the form of a silent scream.

The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his face. He feels the muscles of his chin tremble like a small child. There is static in his head once more, the side effect of this constant fear, constant stress he lives with. he hears his sounds, like a distressed child, raw from the inside. It takes something out of his he didn't know he had left to give. That's the way it is when people are hard. It's like theft of the spirit, an injury no other person can see.

he spent his day there until he got kicked by the runner of the cemetery.

he pulled out his mom's necklace putting it around his neck as he started walking to the cliff.

Minutes after, Adrian was on the cliff, it was midnight when he came.

Should I do it? should I try?

He watched from high above as the waves crashed violently against the base of the crumbling cliffs. The chill sea air bit into him, pushing him back from the precipice, but he stood his ground, watching as waves built up speed and height from far out in the ocean until the peaks rose high above the salty body of water and crashed over into the cliff. The sandy yellow coastline is being eroded one wave at a time.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the way every wave sounds, how it goes forward and back. The world was spinning.

It was the better time to relax his mind and wash his brain from his home. There was now no yelling or arguing between his father and stepmother, their usual arguing and misunderstanding make him suffocate. 

It suffocates his mind and heart, every moment he hears his father yelling at his father or the opposite. He would feel like he couldn't breathe. 

His life now is breathtaking.

Every time, they begin, he will find himself grabbing a cigarette to light it up.

It was the best thing to do while listening to their habitual arguments. It was a piece of usual music to his ears, but still, it sucks.

The countdown of his life starts as he keeps watching the waves from his high spot, which were by now calm.

It was 1:45 am. 

The waves are still singing his favorite tune.

There is nothing noisy about them, it was extremely the opposite of his dad and mother do.

Perhaps to him it is more like the music of his childhood summers so long ago with the people he have loved and lost.

If he closes his eyes he can hear his mother calling him for lunch, his father rustling the newspaper as he turns a fresh leaf. In his closed hand appears a red bucket and spade, there is nothing to worry him, no fears.

He shakes his head violently. He pound it down again and again, but his thoughts will not dislodge themselves. They will drive him insane. Make him into a monster. But yet he keeps them deep inside, close to his heart they abide. He wants to get rid of these terrible thoughts but he also want to keep them tucked deep inside. They confuse and anger him, but yet they are his abditory. They are his worst enemies, yet his closest friends.

He opened his eyes and the ground was still there. 

The wind whipped his hair about his face and he sucked in a deep breath. His muscles were poised as if to run away but instead, he brought his toes to the edge. Now he trusted his life to the silk packed to his back.

As gravity took him fiercely toward the concrete below he struggled to claim any of the air that rushed by for his lungs.

Everything was a blur. There was the sky, the edge of the cliff, and Adrian's staring face. Then it all tilted. The blue rushed into the gray with the white of the roof punching up. The wind hammered into his face. His eyes were being sucked into the backs of his sockets with the sudden acceleration.

The blue that filled his vision turned to dark, and into the color of the night. The color never faded. But guess it should not, because that was the night I killed myself.