The shriek sliced in through my brain and I broke into a sprint, I felt air cutting into my lungs like sharp knives and muscles straining to adapt to my speed. Still, I couldn't stop. I wanted to feel the pain, to feel, to express, it was as if someone is wrenching my own self from my body. I could no longer feel my body, I was flying, even though I can't catch my breath, but I was flying finally. I couldn't feel anything over the pain and I felt contented. 

 I forced myself to a halt at the cliff top, to prevent myself from throwing my body off the cliff. Still, I don't want to feel. I screamed at my top voice until my throat was scratching raw. Wind gushed over my body making me feel the wetness in my feet. I looked down to see my bruised and bleeding soles. The blood coated feet. Instead of feeling remorse or regret, I felt proud and happy. The veins popped out blue all over my arms.

 How long I was running? I don't know. Why was I running? I don't know. I don't want to know either. The pain felt good. That's all I know. I sat down on the edge of the cliff, fighting my worst fear, the fear of heights. I stared longingly into the mist. Ah! How I wish to jump!! But something is holding me back. I have to survive this too. 

I slowly stood up to my feet and walked over to the tree nearby and let myself fall onto the patch of grass, damp with morning dew. It felt ... peaceful....I don't know...it was so peaceful to just lay there and feel the wind and breathe in the cold misty air. I let myself dose off to another dreamless sleep.

The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind coolly as a tree or a flower."

― Sylvia Plath