Matt W. Johnson

”Hi Matt, is everything alright? You look a bit down today.” Connor asked, with his sweet and innocent smile wide across his face. He seemed worried.

“Yeah, I am fine, just a bit tired” I responded, knowing full well it was a blatant lie, I had not been fine for a long time and I knew it. I was always sad, always down, today I just could not be bothered to hide it. I knew it wouldn’t matter how I looked today. Despite acting every day for the past five years, hiding my true self from the world, today I didn’t feel the need for it. For the first time in years, maybe ever, I was fully myself. Nothing was holding me back—all the chains were gone and the veil was broken. For the first time, in a long time, I was Matt Walter Johnson again.

I felt every pair of eyes in the building staring right at me, though I could not blame them; I looked fabulous. I was wearing a black suit jacket and a pair of jeans. As they say, when you go to meet God, you must look nice.

I stepped into the elevator, barely able to make out the floor numbers through my tearful eyes. I wiped them off and gently pushed the button that marked the roof.

Smooth jazz played around me, as one might expect, but I did not focus on it. I was preparing for what was to come. My feet were trembling, cold sweat was dripping down my body and tears down my face. I did not want to die, but at this point it was the only choice left.

A high-pitched ping echoed in the elevator as the doors open, the end of the journey. I step out onto the roof. Despite being in the middle of the city, it was quiet. The smooth jazz of the elevator had turned into nothingness. No cars, no birds, not even any wind.

Slowly I creep towards the edge. Looking down, I saw the city. Buildings upon buildings and cars as far the eye can see—granted all of them were a bit blurry, with all the tears. I take a step back and collapse onto the concrete rooftop. This was to be my demise, but I am not strong enough. Tears rolling down my face and down onto the concrete, I sit there for what feels like an eternity.

Yet my crying is cut short by a silhouette sitting down by my side and putting a hand around me. Turning my head, I see that sweet and innocent smile again. Still in tears, I practically jumped into his arms, embracing him in a tight hug. I was lost, still am, but I felt safe in his arms. I wasn’t ready to die, I didn’t want to die, but I felt I had no other option.

“I don’t want to die.” I managed to blurt out.

“I know,” he said, “and you will not. I am here now.”