So there I was. Three storeys high.
I’d thought about it before. Too many times as it happens. Sat there with my legs dangling over the edge of a massive drop. People below looking up at me, some crying, some egging me on to jump. Finally I had found myself in that position.
I placed my hands on the ledge and lowered myself down to the point where my arms were straining to hold my own weight.
I bottled it.
I somehow found the strength to pull myself back up. The people below now laughing and pointing.
Maybe I should try again. It’ll all be over in seconds…
I have a few jobs I do around the house such as ironing, washing up/loading/unloading the dishwasher, taking out the rubbish, cleaning up the playroom etc etc.
Another job of mine is watering the garden. A job I’ve clearly been doing well as the many flowers (no idea what they are mind – lets call them Paedophilias and, I dunno, Hippy Sheriffs) have been thriving. The grass not so much but it does still have streaks of green which in comparison to many of the fields around here is positively lush. This is thanks largely to the #HeatwaveUK which has turned them all to straw, much like a lot of the mums hair up my kids school.
So last night, as I’d been doing such a good job, I decided to save myself 8 minutes by saying “Balls to the garden – I’m getting on Twitter”. Result.
Upon returning to my botanical duties tonight it seemed clear that maybe I shouldn’t have been so selfish. I wouldn’t say all the plants (lets call them Suffragettes Titties) had died but there was a priest in the garden and not the usual one who stands on the play house to get a good look at the neighbours kids.
As I stood over the charred remains of the Headmistress Flanges I got to thinking about life and its many ups and downs. I’ve never been diagnosed with depression or anything like that but I’m fairly certain there’s something not quite right going on upstairs. I once called a helpline for such things but they said they couldn’t help and that I should try the PDSA.
OK that’s not true. The bit about the PDSA I mean. I did call someone. I cant remember who it was but they recommended I attend a group where we talk about things. Well this was no good for me. If I was to go there I’d have to tell people about my problems and that’s the last thing I wanted getting out.
So I left it. I don’t know what I expected when I made the call. They were either going to send me somewhere to get some drugs or cart me off to a ring of trust and neither of those I was going to go through with, so ultimately all I did was waste their time as well as my own.
Now I need to be clear here, I’m not suicidal. I think about it but I would never do it. I have a family and I know what it would do to them. Lets face it I’m a hell of a guy and I wouldn’t wish losing me on anyone. I just muddle on through with it in the back of my mind.
That said I always knew that if I was to do it I’d probably jump. At least I could get that feeling of flying before it all ended. Might as well get something out of the experience. People do it that way all the time, well, only once. And in Bristol we have the Clifton Suspension Bridge. Many a troubled soul have launched themselves over the edge of IBK’s masterpiece. But would I ever have the nerve?
This leads us nicely back to where I started at the top of this piece. With me still dangling over the edge having just pulled myself back up. I could see someone with their phone out filming me.
I had to do it now surely? How embarrassing would it be to show my face back down the bottom?? I’d seen others do it in the past. Messing themselves with fear and shamefully shuffling into the arms of a loved one.
Not this kiddie. Not today.
I lowered myself back over the ledge. Further and further down past the point that, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t pull myself back up. The weight of my body was too much now.
I let go.
“I did it” I thought as I plummeted.
I’d finally done a death slide.
The good thing about this is I now know I can’t lob myself off of anything fatal because I’m too much of a Jessie (no offence to any Jessies reading this).
Plus, the friction took a layer of skin off my elbow and it still stings. I’m clearly not built for danger so you’re all stuck with me for now.