'No one can predict where life will take you or which direction your boat will sail. Despite the carefully crafted plans for a smooth journey, you'll never know what might happen along the way'
The night breeze brushed against his face and hair, for some reason it felt very peaceful, his eyes stared down at the darkness swaying under his feet, taking regular breaths, he gave one last look at the dark water before a smile forming on his lips, he could not remember when was the last time he smiled but tonight, it was surprisingly comforting. Closing his eyes, only black on his retina.
Today. The day he had been waiting for.
Since when did he want this?
He had always wanted to do this but it was only today that he mustered up the courage.
Life was tough, and if people called him a coward, he did not care anymore. After this, maybe he would be in peace, or in some empty place with a peaceful soul. He never believed in god, but if there was a god he hoped hell was not real.
He had enough of living his miserable life, and he could not possibly have been able to go through the next life if it existed.
Ezra Jonathan Pier.
A man who had lost the will to live, was now standing on a bridge with a large, deep lake below. Closing his eyes, preparing himself to fall.
He leaned against one of the guardrails, purposely choosing midnight because no one would stand in his way of breaking free.
Taking a breath, doubt gradually crept into his chest.
--Is this the right choice?
The question that had always been on his mind.
He did not know anymore, after all he had no one, if he died today no one would miss him.
How many years had he lived in solitude? going through a period of depression after being left by his parents because of an accident that befell them. Only Ezra survived, going through hard times with a clouded mind. He did not even remember anything that happened in his life, as if he had been living on autopilot for years, only breathing and surviving, living like a zombie, Ezra did not remember a single happy thing that ever happened in his life.
He had done everything, gone to a psychologist to see a therapist. How many times had he been to that place, telling everything about himself? He, who gradually became numb, who instantly had difficulty feeling emotions, as if Ezra had turned into a robot. But what he gained from coming to that place was a way to ignore something that interfered with his survival — a way to ignore the desire to end his life. Those were nothing but empty words to keep him alive longer. There was no way to recover, even if it was not said directly. It was implied every time he attended a therapy session.
'Do this to avoid falling into a depressive episode.'
'If you experience a depressive episode, take this medication to alleviate the symptoms.'
Yes, those words. Something that must be done to distance himself from the notion of his impaired survival instinct
Despite taking the medicine multiple times and feeling better temporarily, once the effects wore off, he reverted to his original state. Nothing would ever change, he would always be like this. Ezra was fed up, the thoughts of ending his life grew stronger.
"Ah, I don't even know what I did a few years ago, I don't even remember what I've been through."
Letting out a bitter laugh, his eyes still shut, his face occasionally brushed by the wind, sending a chill through his cheeks.
An emptiness seemed to have taken root within him — his chest, his head, all void of sensation. It was as if he could no longer feel anything, yet his eyes remained teary
Ezra seemed to be at the edge of a cliff. And Ezra thought that today— tonight, was the right moment for him to jump free from that edge.
Bit by bit, the hand gripping the barrier weakened, he was prepared, he should have been prepared. No, he was more than ready for this decision. Ezra released his grip entirely, feeling his body plummet through the air until it met the unforgiving impact of the cold water. Slowly, he sank beneath the surface, the lake water gradually filling his lungs.
Suffocating.
The sensation was suffocating, pain radiating through every joint of his body. The oxygen that had been replaced with water made it excruciatingly difficult for Ezra to breathe. Even though he understood this was his choice, it didn't mean he was unable to feel any pain.
Hurry. He wanted this to end quickly. His chest ached, breaths came in short gasps, and his ears rang incessantly. He had no idea how long his body had been unconsciously struggling to stay alive, desperately grasping for oxygen. Soon after, his legs and arms weakened, causing his body to plummet further, he felt like his whole organ was being crushed, he could not move anymore.
Dark.
Ezra lost consciousness.
*
The beam of light that illuminated his vision caused him to blink several times, rubbing his eyes until his vision cleared. He found himself in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by white fog. However, the warmth of the place kept him from being overly nervous, despite him being all alone. As he took a step, attempting to explore this strange environment, he spotted an alley in the distance. At the end of the alley, a burst of green from the trees caught his eye, resembling a garden. Curious, Ezra walked toward that direction until someone suddenly appeared, bringing him to a halt.
His body came to an abrupt stop, his eyes widening as he took in the gentle expression of a person—an elderly woman he hadn't seen for a long time. This woman had passed away when Ezra was just a child. "Grandma?" he asked, his voice tinged with doubt, his eyes blinking as he attempted to get a clearer view.
He still could not believe what he was seeing, the grandmother smiled warmly at him, and suddenly his chest that felt empty throbbed for a few seconds before finally feeling empty again.
"Ezra, my dear grandson, you have grown so much." Her hand touched Ezra's cheek, caressing it gently. Despite his confusion, Ezra didn't shy away from the touch. Instead, he closed his eyes momentarily, then gazed back at his grandmother.
"You shouldn't be here yet," she said and hearing that Ezra tilted his head, "You should live happily. Instead of being here, you are still very young. There are still many things waiting for you in life."
Gradually, his memory pieced together the events before his arrival here. His eyes widened momentarily, but Ezra soon gave his grandmother an affectionate look. He smiled, then shook his head.
"That's enough. I'm happy to be here with you, Grandma. I've missed you so much."
The hand stroke was very warm on his cheek, the grandmother looked at him with a confused expression mixed with sadness.
"Someone is waiting for you."
Ezra made a bewildered face, no one was waiting for him, even before he was in this strange place.
The hand that had been on his cheek gradually lowered until it held onto his wrist. Guiding Ezra, his grandmother led him through the alley. The further they walked, the more the green surroundings became apparent. As they reached the end, the fog immediately enveloped his vision once again. Ezra felt the grip of the hand that guided him fade away. When he turned to the side, the grandmother was no longer there.
Ezra came to realize that he was now alone amidst the white fog. It would be untrue to say he wasn't nervous, but slowly the fog dissipated. He found himself standing on solid ground, with faint sounds of people in what seemed like a state of shock. The distant hum of a passing vehicle reached his ears from behind. Bewildered, Ezra gazed at the crowd that had gathered in a certain spot.
This place was familiar
He lifted his head, gazing at the bridge where he had stood yesterday before making the decision to fall into the lake.
His eyes returned again to the gathered crowd, feet moving faster and faster, he stood behind the crowd. He positioned himself behind the gathering, his hands attempting to push through to create a path. To his astonishment, his hand passed through the body of the person in front of him. He couldn't make physical contact. Ezra stared at his hands in disbelief.
"Ah, of course. I'm dead."
Chuckling— without struggling with his transparent body, Ezra made his way through the crowd.
But his steps halted as a familiar voice echoed through the air.
Instantly, his legs became weak.
How could he forget that voice?
Ezra's eyes searched for the whereabouts of the source of the sound that made the hearts of anyone who heard his screams ache.
"Ezra!!!"
"Sir, you must not touch the body. Please wait for the medical staff to attend to it first—"
His eyes caught the figure of a man with a miserable face, the wrinkles on his forehead revealed frustration, and visible veins on his temples suggested anger. Ezra carefully examined every aspect of the man's face. It was natural for him to feel sadness over Ezra's death, but there was something unusual— one expression that Ezra couldn't quite decipher.
Two policemen held onto the man's arms, yet they struggled to restrain him due to his height and strength. His intense gaze remained fixed on Ezra.
Not on the Ezra who now stood in the midst of the crowd, but on the motionless Ezra. The one who no longer breathed, lying weakly with pale skin on the ground, just like a broken doll.