I feel the wind rush below my feet, my palms begin to sweat. Is this really how I want to die, suicide in New York City? My hands are slipping, this is my last chance to turn back, but will I take it. No, this is just to see how much people really care about me. I want to come back and haunt them, I want them to hurt, like they hurt me. But what if I can come back, what if I should not have done this, what if I will be tortured by the pain of leaving everyone behind. Will I regret it? I can not change the past, but this one decision will decide everything. To let go and fall to my death, or to pull myself up. My parents might not notice me fall, after all they are on Floor 3, and if I fall I might be dead by then. I look down, I see the cars rushing below me, I see the buzz of people on the sidewalk, where will I fall. I re grip on the edge of the building so I have more time to think. No one will notice me dangling off a building, so if I pull myself up I will have to keep living the same in-confident life that I have been living for too long. This is my last chance to decide, I will do the most reasonable thing, my hand tenses, and I make my choice.