The pain bolted through his body. He could no longer separate what was physical and what was mental. It didn’t matter anymore. He was tired of drowning his emotions in alcohol. He was tired of using what energy remained on making everyone else believe he was okay. He was tired. Exhausted, really. Completely and utterly exhausted. He cried when he awoke, because he awoke. He didn’t even know what to mourn anymore. Should he cry for the wife he once had? The one who was supposed to love him until the end. It was ironic. When she vowed to love him he prayed he would never have to see the end of that love, now he embraced for an end in hopes he could see her again. He mourned the car wreck that left his body impaired. He was glad his wife had died that day, he would never wish this pain upon her. To live without the other was no life at all and he knew she would agree. He often wondered if even she could love the monster he had become. Probably not. He took one last look in the mirror, he didn’t recognize himself. That was okay. He was afraid he would hesitate, begin to think clearly but he didn’t. No, he was going to go through with this. His hands grasped the rope so tightly it cut into his palms. He wasn’t nervous, he was anxious. He had never in his life wanted something so badly, he could hardly hold on another second. He said goodbye to himself in the mirror and took one last sip of whiskey. “Bye, Jim.” He said to the empty glass, it had been the only thing he truly loved for months but he wouldn’t miss it. He walked to the stair way one last time. He tied the rope tightly around the banister. He stepped up to the ledge, something that wasn’t easy to do in his crippled state. In the last second he asked himself if he were sure. Yes, I want, no, I NEED this. He did. He wanted death more than life itself. He couldn’t wait any longer so he jumped. He felt his feet leave the ledge and... he regretted it. He didn’t need this. He didn’t want this.