Sitter

I sat on a cliff, looking over the edge. It was a long way down, so far down it allowed me to immediately think of two outcomes: me alive, me dead. I think that's what freaks people out about heights: you can see two worlds clearly, and the only thing keeping you away from the one where you are alive is one step. 

Hi, my name is Jack. I am lonely.

A lot of other people, they have it easy. They can gab, make a funny, get the other guy laughing, you know, break down his barriers. That was never me. For as long as I remember it's been me and me alone. I have daydreamed, sure, daydreamed about meeting the one, but it just never happened. For a long time I thought there was something wrong with good ol' Jack. And for a long time I thought there wasn't, it was everybody else.

But there is something wrong with Jack.

He hates himself. I hate myself.

There was a girl once. She didn't love me but I loved her so much it hurt. Jack was smitten, she was not. I I thought of her a lot. I still do. She was the only person who showed good ol' Jack an ounce worth of respect, of love. She played my game, pretended to like me, but when she disappeared like all the others, I wasn't surprised. In fact it was something of a release. She was no longer playing my game, and the stress left my body like the passing of gas. But after a day or so the pain came back. It was as bad as ever, and that was 10 years ago.

I am sitting on a cliff, looking down. The man-sized boulders tossed around down there amongst the dead grass. There was a howling of wind. The sky above empty and blue and depressing. I caught myself thinking of her smiling face. Her sea green eyes, her dirty blonde hair, the tears in her eyes when I told her my feelings for her. She was an angel and I was a troll. Don't think like that. But it's true. Her ears were so cute it hurt, almost pointed like a fairy's. I would do anything to see her again, but she's gone. Like all of them have, my parents, my “friends”, my romantic interests.

And then I heard the moaning. I brought my hands up to my face. My skin was rough. How did I get so old? I remember when I was a young man. I had not been liked by many, but at least I had the glow of youth about me, something shiny and new. I was a babe. And the world loves babes.

There was a tree at the bottom of the cliff. It was a small, almost shrub-like. It was all by itself, not another one for at least a mile. The moaning. Is it coming from me? He honestly could not tell.