If I could decide myself, I would open up the
window and sit with my legs hanging about 7 floors from the ground. I would
wait till they turned purple from the cold and then jump to hang in midair for
exactly 4 second. And then I would hit the cold and hard ground. Mother would
go down and out into the cold to buy bread at Coop, and then she would see me
in the big patch of blood-soaked grass, my body so deformed she might just only
recognize me by the white dress I like to wear at home. She would scream and
cry for months and never close her eyes again without picturing me lying there
dead. Her splendid little girl. She would then wonder why I did it and cry
harder.
But
I won’t do it.
