I don't remember the first time I thought about ending my life.
But I remember the last.
It was a Tuesday, and my boss was yelling about formatting an email wrong. Not the content. Not the deadline. The font. Apparently, Arial Bold was too "aggressive for the client."
I'd worked 50 hours that week. I hadn't eaten a real meal in two days. And still, I nodded and apologized like I always did.
No one noticed that I hadn't said a real word all day.
When I finally left the office, I walked right past the train station, past my cramped apartment with its flickering light and mini fridge, and straight to the bridge I used to sit under as a kid. Back when I thought the world was loud and full of color.
It was so very quiet now.
And I was so very tired of pretending I could fix anything, that I could hold out longer for something more.
I thought about calling my parents. But they hadn't answered the last three times I tried. They said I was "too negative to be around."
I thought about leaving a note. But there wasn't anyone left who'd read it.
So I stepped over the rail. The wind was colder than I expected.
And then I jumped.
Nothing.
I expected pain. Or darkness. Or even some sort of judgment.
Instead, I felt... light. Not metaphorically. Like literally light.
I opened my eyes or I guess I tried to. Everything was blurry and really bright. There were soft chirps in the air, and the smell of sun-warmed leaves.
I moved to sit up and nearly fell off the branch I was perched on.
A branch?
I looked down, beak first.
White feathers. Orange feet.
Claws.
And somewhere in my chest, the slow realization: I was a bird.
A real one. Small, white, delicate. The kind you see in wedding photos or children's books.
I flapped in a panic and immediately fell off the branch, landing in a patch of moss with an undignified fwump.
What the hell?
By the time I stopped freaking out and pacing around the few inches I could with my small legs, it had become sunset.
The forest was vast and green and filled with sounds I didn't recognize. I couldn't speak at all, not in words, but my thoughts were clear. I felt the breeze before I heard it, the pulse of the earth beneath my feet, the sway of trees like a heartbeat I'd never known I was missing.
No cars.
No notifications.
No yelling.
No one is demanding I earn my right to exist.
Just other birds, a pretty orange sky, and peace.
I curled into the soft moss and fell asleep beneath the leftover ray of sunlight.
For the first time in years, I was going to sleep knowing I didn't have anything else to do.