Rooftop

Left foot forward. Thud. Right foot forward. Thud. Left forward. Thud. Right foot forward. Nothing.

Floor 42
Nothing's really different. I feel like this whole thing's been over-exaggerated.

Floor 35
I'm going pretty fast. I didn't think I'd start falling this quickly, but here I am. I feel like I'm flying. I've never been skydiving, but I imagine it's just like this.

Floor 26
I've lost feeling in my legs and hands. They're not numb, I just don't recognize them. They're still there; I can see them. I just don't feel them.

Floor 23
I'm almost halfway there. This has taken much longer than I thought it would. To be perfectly honest, I assumed that this would be over in the literal blink of an eye. Then again, I haven't blinked yet. Maybe I will.

Floor 21
My eyes are a little dry. I'll shut them for just a quick second.

Floor 3
How did I get here so fast? Everything looks much closer now. This isn't surreal anymore. I'm not skydiving anymore. I'm falling. Or maybe, it'd be correct to say "I've fallen"?

Floor 2
How the hell did I get here? My parents didn't raise me to be like this. They didn't want a quitter. Then again, whose parents want their kids to quit? I can't say anyone would be proud of me at this moment, but hey, if I were watching from the street, I'd be proud of me. This takes guts. I'm one in a million; nobody does this kind of thing. I'm kind of special in my own right. I've always been special, but only to myself. I know that Mom and Dad think I've grown up normal, and that my life has been simple without any modicum of difference from the norm. In their defense, though, their assumption isn't that wrong. My life has been average, almost painfully so. Maybe that's why I'm here. Who knows?

Floor 1
Thud.