Suicide - or just maybe a new start&;#063;

The light was different now. It was cold, and harsh. It stung my
tired sore eyes, awakening them from their last chances of dreams and
fairytales. It pushed heavily on my weak faith, like a load of worries
sent from the grey sky above.
The street was the same mass of colour and voices, different sounds,
different voices, yet somehow all so familiar. It was dirty damp winter
morning, no different or special to anything I had ever experienced
before. People rushed past me, unconscious of my presence beside them.
But there again they always had been. Cups of coffee steaming in their
clean hands and shiny leather briefcases held at their sides. Whilst
beggars eyed their luxurious life from the dark dingy alleyways, and
corners. It was a sickening sight, yet city life had always been that
way to me. Shopkeepers called out to their potential customers, whilst
cars speeded past, fumes smoking behind. Trails of pollution, a mark of
their fast racing lives.
Maybe perhaps if anyone had taken a second from their busy schedules
to look and ponder upon the scenery that faced them, they would have
noticed. Noticed a poor young woman. Ruffled and messy dark brown hair,
and a slim figure. Shocking blue eyes, she had, they stared straight
through people, and almost through life. She had a look of honesty and
kindness about her, but that seemed to have withered almost as if she
knew something beyond her years. Something that she had found out far
too early, something that had affected her life drastically.
The woman happened to be my own glassy reflection, staring back at me
in the coffee shop window. I paused for a moment, thoughts encircling
my head. Then I took a few steps forward, faster and faster, each step
echoing my deep breaths. Heels clicking against the pavement I paced
ahead. Taking my last steps. Everyone around me had become a strange
blur, a mix of sounds and colour and feelings that I couldn't describe
anymore. I knew it was time, it had come at last. A sickening feeling
crept up the back of my throat like a lion waiting in the shadows ready
to pounce.
I walked towards the zebra crossing. The black and white lines
imprinting like a bar code inside my brain. I waited there for a few
moments, then took a step. Everything was according to plan. The sound
cut out there and everything seemed to be in slow motion. I felt like a
part of a film, everything in perfect close up view. For once in my
life I could see every angle, I could get a perspective from every
camera. Yet I was the director, the actress, the tape and the script
all at the same time. Everything was in my control.
I saw the headlights but heard no engine. The lights flashed in my
eyes, a warning. I felt pain for a second or two, and then it stopped.
All that was left was my sight, and all I could see was blackness.