Some people ask why I do it. They ask if it's for the rush, to prove something, for attention. They even dubbed me “The Climber”.
Now let me tell you, I don't get a rush, I have nothing to prove, and I don't give a measly fuck about attention. I do it for myself. I do it to stare death in the face at 500 feet up.
The same death that took my wife, took my daughter, took everything. The same death that caused this fucked up series of events called my life.
It's a fairly normal climb, I easily slip in through an open window on the second floor. From there is was just walking.
Minutes passing by of nothing but mindlessly moving my legs, walking up stairs. Some would find this relaxing, thinking about life, the calm before the storm.
But I don't think much, thinking always seems to bring back memories of happiness that has long since been forgotten.
Memories of regret, worry, and wonder as to why my life turned into the shithole it is.
Eventually I reach the door to the roof, the sheet of metal that marks the entrance to danger, and exit of safety. Without thinking, I walk out.
My eyes scanning the horizon, the gravel crunching beneath my feet, I notice the crane I had spotted a couple of days before, my goal.
A mass of pure steel jutting out from atop the building, the only support coming from the roof where I stand, the rest suspended in air.
I walk forward, my body surprisingly calm, as if it had no idea what lay in store. Slowly climbing, I reach my had out to grab a hold of the underside of the steel beast.
Pulling myself up, I notice the breeze, the wave of warm, humid air grasping at my clothes, and the mess of hair atop my head.
Once up, I walk cautiously to the end, my smile growing as I near my goal. A couple more steps, and I'm there.
The summer air covering me like a blanket, the city laid out in a design of man made structures. It seemed peaceful up here, almost perfect.
That's what I like about being up so high, it seems to make you forget about how fucked up the world actually is.
I shuffle forward until all that remains on the crane are the soles of my shoes.
I close my eyes, knowing that almost nothing is separating me from life and death, and for a second all is calm, perfect.
I breathe in the warm summer air, forgetting about the life I've been given. A smile crosses my face as my wife and daughter flash across my mind.
I don't think much. Thinking always seems to bring back memories.
I take a step forward.