As I counted from one to ten, carefully retracing the footsteps of my memory, I recalled a story from a far away past.
A distant memory layered in dust- a tiny secret only meant for me (or so it was meant to be until now). Now the sudden change in mind was none too surprising.
It was akin to the final struggle of man who dared not leave the world without confessing a sin. So there I stood with a pen and a note in my hand, at the edge of a roof.
With bloodshot eyes from sleepless nights, and hint of alcohol in my steps, I sat down. A shiver up my spine as my feet dangled over the edge- above the big city that had seemed miniscule then.
I scribbled down on that piece of note my plans for tomorrow, and the groceries I had to get. Surprised? Were you expecting a will instead? Well that's my little secret.
As I finished my last words, I gave that note a last look (as good of a look my drunken state could of course)and put that note in the pocket of my pants.
With that I was done. I took a deep breath. With a face filled with determination, that seemed ironic on a man about to plunge down a multistory building, I jumped.
Now my little confession starts now. My secret is the fact that I can never die, and only my memories die with the jump. Cause I had decided I was done with this life- my 200th try at life.
And now you may be wondering what that note was for. For that is a simple answer, which is to say for my lost self. The one who would wake up to a new dawn. The one who would start life again.
The one with no recollection whatsoever, like a new born- safe for the puzzling note in his pocket.