parallels

I could tell you a lot of things. I’m sure there are a lot of things to say. I could tell you about how I got to the top, the wind pulling at my clothing, the fabric trying to break free of my body. I could describe the dense feeling of the blood seeping into my hair and staining my scalp. Surrounding me like a laurel wreath. If you were truly interested, I could tell you what it feels like to die.

You see, this could go an infinite number of ways, but I will be the first to admit; the roof was too high.

They didn’t know that of course.

How could they?

Words can be deceiving. But isn’t the simplicity of it beautiful?

I think I can guess what you’re thinking, and I assume it is one of the benefits of having died. It’s probably something along the lines of, “Why should I care?” or, “Who even are you?”.

That day, I was Josh.

Josh just graduated. He isn’t too smart, but he will do alright. For some reason, he enjoys only obscure British bands, but it was mostly to say that was the only thing he listens to. He wore leather jackets for their comfort instead of appearance. 

He was fun.

To be around.

To be.

Josh didn’t know. 

To be honest, a lot could be added to the end of that sentence. What he wanted? Politics? The point of techno music? I guess all of it would be true. I’m sure if Josh was here, he would agree.

But Josh is temporary. Josh is a smile that can slip into place and a wink that can charm a girl.

Nathan was before. A few days before. A week. 

But so was Liam. 

And Isaac.

They didn’t know that of course.

I could tell you a lot of stories. And I was them all. I lived every moment. I was Isaac growing up in the city, listening to loud words that had made me wince. At the same moment, I was Liam. Growing up in a quiet suburb playing in a sandbox and catching snails.

I’ve fallen in love. Fallen so hard that my legs were trembling too much to catch me. Had my heart torn to pieces mercilessly. Broke a few more than I meant to. Sometimes, they fell in love too. Josh with the British girl with messy hair and oversized sweaters. Liam with the girl who ran as easily as breathing, but could only breathe while reading.

I was in a thousand different places, living different lives and becoming different people. 

Until grey turned to red and bones went soft. Until darkness spread across the sky like ink. Until I could feel the shattered pieces with every breath. Until I couldn’t. But isn’t there always an until? 

Somedays, they cannot decide who I am. They change with each expression and shift with each word.

It was Nathan who refused to let go. The day before. Nathan who the others egged on. He always was. The only person who could believe he was doing what he wanted without knowing another person had whispered in his ear. Without knowing what he wanted. If there was one thing he was, it was committed.

To his desire to be an actor. To the strangers that were begrudgingly shaped into friends after a smile. To every absurd idea that appeared from thin air. An epiphany, he would always decide. 

It wasn’t his fault that the roof seemed to drop a second too fast. It wasn’t his fault that he thought the others had abandoned him. They were there, though. They were all there. Cheering on his—my every footstep, each of their voices distinct as the wind gripped me. Falling with me.

When you think of falling, you think of wind whipping through your clothes and dragging your skin back. Rough landings and shattering.

The wind carried me though. It eased the breath from my lips with a longing breeze. It smoothed the hair from my face with a gentle touch. And then, it let go. I couldn’t blame it. I never had full control. I knew that it probably didn’t have full control either. I could feel the wind’s sorrow that it had to let me fall.

Nathan would’ve yelled into the wind. If he had been there. Allowing it to take the words from him the same way it had taken his breath. But not Josh. Josh whispered as he fell, letting the wind take his words all the same, but giving them wings.

Nathan was a coward though. You see, he was committed to every whim and notion, loving the fear and the adrenaline. Until the world tilted. Until the sky fell and lights sparkled on the ground instead of the sky.

I told you. There is always an until.

The ground was hard, stiff beneath my body. So I softened into it. Something had to give, right? That’s what Liam’s mom always said. Whispering the words into my hair after a difficult day. She was convinced that either the world would give way, or we would. Never both.

It was my turn.

That’s what Isaac’s sister said as she lay in the hospital bed. Whispering as if half asleep. Her short hair spread behind her head like strands of silk. Tattoos winding up her arms and around her fingers, dark against her freckled skin.

Sometimes it is hard to keep my stories straight. The pills made it easier, the ones the doctor gave me in the white rooms. It kept them away; left me in control.

For a while, I liked it. Liked the way their screams were reduced to whispers. The way my words were my own.

But I started to miss Nathan; his wild ideas, and terribly thought through plans.

I started to long for Josh to keep me steady, and his weird band recommendations.

For Isaac and his knowing sympathy, his bad jokes at terrible times.

I started to ache for Liam’s naïve innocence, his aching desire to know everything.

The pills stopped going into my mouth. At first, it was just a few days. The days stretched into weeks. Weeks into months. I didn’t care. Neither did the doctors. 

They thought I was doing better. The white rooms were gone and then I was back. 

Back to home.

Wherever home was.

For the day.

For a few months.

That day is as sharp and as clear as crystal now. Again, probably an added benefit of death. Are you interested? I can still tell you what death is like. 

See? Now you are.

Death is soft. The feeling of a warm palm pressed into your own. It is light and dark, all at the same time. It is knowing how much you are going to miss a moment that you are still living. It is as delicate as glass. It never breaks. It is odds at end with themselves. Pushing and pulling. Singing and screaming.

They didn’t know that of course.

But even as it is all of those things, it is none of them.

It is fluid.

As fluid as who I am. From day to day, minute to minute.

Nathan made going up the steps easy. 

Josh helped me down.