I can see the whole city swimming in swarms, like a school of fish beneath my feet. Taxis honking, music playing, and people promenading through the streets. Everyone seems to belong, even the people isolated seem to be content not only with themselves, but their lives. This is one trait that I have always envied, for I had never had the luxury of that profane feeling.

Love. That is another strait that I strongly covet. Just someone to have and own a desirous love for me. I guess that was too much to solicit, even from my own mother. It is said that a mother’s love is supposed to be unsecedable and undying. However, I had buried her love in the back yard a long time ago, right next to the grave where she buried my morals and self-esteem.

My semblance had always been inept, frail, and I had never belonged in any type of commune. In fact, alienation existed within myself, as well. No matter how hard I tried to synchronize parts of myself together, it never worked. It’s like a puzzle with a missing piece; you just can’t put it together.

I used to saunter through the streets, thinking maybe I would find that one respective piece and overcome my disheveled life. Possibly then, the glower of people would transform into smiles and their instigating indignities would become lenient and kind words. However, my jocular thoughts failed me, and that puzzle piece that I was so resolute to find, was never acquired. Instead, recession ricocheted into my already squandered life.

Cutting and overdosing on “happy pills” became my sick obsession. It was an escape for me from my awry and misfit life. I was an addict for the bizarre, yet pleasing, feeling of blood trickling down and through my bony fingers. Often times I would even place my virile wrists against my concaved cheeks and feel the warmth of the blood rejuvenate my lifeless face.

Inside I was already dead and inanimate. On the outside, I have been derelicted by my own family and mind. There was only one and explicit way out of my doleful situation.

With the pills already in my screwed up system, I stand on the rooftop of this ten story building, overlooking what waits for me below. My distraught mind has led me here, to finish off the rest of me that’s not yet dead. You may think I’m a stupid, selfish and an intervened girl who is now going to commit suicide for unfounded reasons. However, you are wrong. I’m not committing suicide; I’m simply taking apart a puzzle. A puzzle that was never quite finished. And an unfinished puzzle is useless.