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I tried thinking. No more thoughts came to mind. As the overwhelming sense of vertigo encompassed me, I felt free for the first time in my life.
I made the right decision.

I sat down, curled up in a fetal position. My dress danced in the wind as the draft lifted from the mechanical river of screeches and beeping below. The lonesome darkness kissed my bare skin.
So that's how it is.

I clutched my kicking stomach as I took a glance below me. I knew my judgment was being clouded by the swirling butterflies and throbbing head. But as hazy as that train of thought was, there was always one lonesome growl that made it's way through the thick fog.
“Go ahead. You've already screwed up your life beyond repair”.

I swept a long, curly platinum-blonde lock away from my eyes. My cheek felt crusty and dry, as a lonesome drop of salt reached the corner of my mouth and continued it's journey, until it was brave enough to take a leap of faith off my chin and splatter on to the cold concreted barrier.

Tormenting memories of my skipped monthly ritual flooded back to me – the panic I felt, the thoughts that ran through my head – and the fact that a fortnight prior to that, I was stupid enough to let it happen. My flashback drifted towards that one night where all my hopes and dreams – everything I aspired to be – was shattered in a moment.
Then again, humanity is the definition of stupidity.

A loud shriek and the smell of burning tires below me pierced the fragile atmosphere, raging against my ear drums as one of man's contraptions piled into another, creating a twisted pile of scrap metal. With that final catalyst, I pulled together both bravery and cowardice, just like the salty drop did.