Yet Another Invitation from Thanatos

10th of June.

It was past my work hours, but there I was, typing away my youth whilst matching the monotonous rhythm of corporate work.

A faint reflection of my restless soul rests upon a bright screen but only for a moment — shortly, it drowns into a sea of notifications.

Then amidst it all, a single message —

“Goodbye.”

In a split second, every other notification grew pale in comparison.

With hastily made excuses, I left my workload to my colleagues. They give me annoyed stares. I cannot blame them. They now must work more due to my absence, but I needed to go.

I rushed to my car and drove home.

My apartment was just 30 minutes away. Today, however, it felt like hours.

Every minute or so, I checked my phone for new messages. There was none.

I tried calling. No one answered.

Worry was eating me away.

When I finally reached my apartment. I rushed to the stairs.

Then a minute later, I was huffing and puffing, but I kept running whilst drenched of sweating. My legs crying, but I take more hurried steps uncaring.

When I opened the door to the rooftop, there she was; a slender grey silhouette in stark contrast to the burning yellow sun behind her.

I rushed all this way, but she spared me no glance. She was enamored at something beyond the horizon.

My knees weaken.

I clutch my painfully pounding chest. A gale washes upon the rooftop — leaving my head spinning and my body shivering. I need to catch my breath.

I'm fine. This is normal.

I just need a second to recuperate.

It is said that there are two types of desires swirling within the hearts of humans: the desire to live, and the desire to let go.

Unfortunately for myself, she is overcome by the latter.

But I always knew that.

After all, we first met under similar circumstances on this very rooftop.

Halfway through July, on a rare precious day off of mine. Twenty-four whole hours where I am unencumbered of any trepidations!

Obviously, I slept in and awoke only at midday due to my growling stomach.

As I was relishing a piece of bread dipped in instant coffee —

I received a call.

Scarce are the calls I receive from acquaintances and family; it can only be from the bank, my landlady — or my dreadful company.

Never have I received endearing news from any.

Nevertheless, I prayed to the heavens above to spare me of a call from the most latter.

Upon answering, however, I heard the condescending voice of my supervisor.

And so, against my will, I was pulled into a remote meeting that took my entire afternoon.

When it concluded, the sun was already setting.

I was exhausted.

I went up to the rooftop.

I wanted to breathe. I wanted to rest my gaze upon the cityscape. I wanted to take in the sunset. I wanted to observe people proceeding with their lives unfazed by the seeping night devoid of the sun’s warmth.

Every task was taxing. Every day was hectic. No one spared me thought nor compassion. After countless hours of overtime, now even my rest was cut short.

Am I really that unworthy of even the slightest of respite?

I sought some comfort, even for just a moment, even from the mundane — but on that day, I found no mundane comfort.

Instead, I found her. A girl unfazed by the chilly breeze washing upon the rooftop. Her skin was pale. Her frame was fragile. Her presence was intoxicating. And without myself noticing, her charm drew me close.

I was entranced, enamored. It would have been a perfect romantic encounter — Alas... she stood on the other side of the railing, seemingly enamored by something in front of her.

I saved her — and started regularly talking to her, for her sake. But with the escalating pressure in my workplace, she instead became my sole comfort. Eventually, I confessed; she consented.

That was months ago. Right now, I look at the very same figure that captivated me —with eyes clouded with a plethora of emotions, mostly frustration and anxiety.

I glare at her. With heavy steps, I approach. She will not jump. I know for certain. This is not the first time she has done this, nor the second. Every time she would contact me, then patiently wait for me.

“Stop.”

I jump over the railing and take her hand. It was cold, as always.

But as soon as I got a grip, she shook off my hand.

“Let go of me.”

She could have always proceeded without letting anyone know, that would have given her death certainty. Instead, she always made me know, knowing full well I would drop everything to rush to her. She is uncertain of her emotions; I am certain of that. These conflicting acts of hers are simply born of conflicting emotions.

I love her so much, and as such I would always come to her. Nonetheless, even strong emotions eventually wear, waver, and grow conflicted.

When she first pulled this off, I felt nothing but panic and worry. I felt the same on the second, and the third. But as the count rose, so was my frustration.

I would always drop everything. She would patiently wait for me. Then, I would spend the rest of the night with her, ensuring she does not do it again — for the day, at least.

However, the next day, I would be scolded for leaving early alongside receiving much more work afterward. It was exhausting.

Indeed, she brought comfort to my soul — but she came with no light nor warmth, only a soothing cold breeze, preventing my fickle frame from bursting into flames underneath the excruciating pain of continued existence in an indifferent society.

Regardless of it all.

She was enough. We were enough. We could spend a lifetime together, but she’d rather cut it short. She is forsaking my labors of purpose. How can one build a future for someone who has no desire to see it through?

I have no one. No one even cares about me. Everyone sees me as a means to an end, a convenience. She is the only person I ever valued in my life — but she values something else.

All this time, I have been trying so hard — but for what? I could not even get a glimpse from her.

“Look at me! Please…”

Contrary to my exasperated thoughts, she is peacefully gazing upon the setting sun. Her expression was content with a faint glint of longing. Far from my conflicted soul, her look was firm.

I cannot find any flaw in my rationality.

But am I wrong?

Am I just selfish?

Am I just angry out of jealousy? Of her lack of fear of death? Of her disregard of life?

But, for what reason am I opposed?

Regardless of the struggles we take, we all have one destination — death. 

If so, isn’t it better to cut struggles short?

Why have I been clinging so much to this life — if it is so miserable — that it makes me want to die?

She looked up at me. Her empty eyes, usually devoid of desire, peered past my flesh, gazing right into my soul.

The lukewarm red sky began withering into shades of blue. I felt the ethereal embrace, seeping into my very existence.

The last of the embers within me withered into ash.

They say death always appears in the form most tempting to the one seeing it. That is, it takes the form of their ideal companion.

And in front of me — is the smile of the most beautiful person in the world.

Without a word, we held each other hands.

Her lifeless touch seems to cease being cold.

I have been so blind.

The respite I seek so much — is but a step away.

We take a step into the night.

Thug.

My left hand instinctively grabs into the railing.

My right hand then firmly grabs her arm.

We both lose balance, but with both luck and adrenaline, I manage to swing her back up. Now, I have one hand firmly grasping the railing and another hand firmly around her waist. That was close. My heartbeat is deafening.

I saved her again, much to her dismay. The sun has long set. Behind her is the endless expanse of the abyss — peering through the sky — at our insignificant existence.

But shortly after — a thousand lights illuminated the cityscape.

Gone are the times of slumber after dusk, now the world proceeds unbothered till dawn regardless of the endless darkness above.

“Why did you stop?"

I sense a tinge of disappointment in her question.

Someday, her unwavering desire may drown my wavering soul. Someday, the weight of the world may crush my remaining resistance. Someday, I may seek death’s sweet embrace as much as hers

— but not today.