47 lives

You don't know me. I did not mean for it to end up this way. You think I don't hear what your judgmental eyes say. I played with the cards I was dealt and even though I felt it was a raw deal I didn't throw in my hand. And perhaps my gamble is what caused me to land here. Underneath your feet. But as I sit here with others you don't realize that they are your sisters and brothers. So I took all of their stories and my best penmanship and I wrote all of them out. Stories of leaving an abusive home in hopes to save themselves. Stories of serving this country and not being mentally prepared to fit back into it. Stories of feeling heartbreak that's so immense, a comfortable life just doesn't matter anymore. I took these 47 pages to a popular beach and stood on a pier rail, yelling about my own life until I saw all the telltale signs that this was live. Knowing they will catch something worth going viral. Little did they know it was not about my life, I began to read those lives aloud. Raising it up to the wind and letting go when their story was concluded, now they know what i know. After releasing the last page into the wind I looked into the crowd, and as I suspected they all looked at me but only through their screens. Except for one face. She didn't have a screen to look into and her look was like mine. I imagined because of this, someone in the city would extend an extra hand to her. The one hand she needed that her life didn't conclude the way mine was going to. A little less hurt. I smiled and she nodded. And I raised my arms and let myself fall into the waves. Although it was a beautiful day, the water was still cold. Cold enough to do its job. Because of my death, more people would hear about their lives. In my last thoughts, I knew it was worth it.