i·ro·ny (ˈīrənē/) noun; a state of affairs or an event that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects and is often amusing as a result.

I’m about to jump off a building on the day that has the best weather we’ve had all year. That’s ironic. I’ve been reaching out for years, yet now is the only time anyone will notice. That’s ironic. I’m about to die at school yet I don’t want to seem like an attention seeker, that’s ironic. Eli loved me, and is now happy with another girl while I’m miserable. That’s ironic too.

The top of the school was always a place Eli and I could be found. Nobody else ever bothered to go up, so we were alone. This was the one place I could be open with him. To love him. In a place like here, where being with the same gender is social suicide, this was a small sanctuary for me. Now, it just provides memories of our relationship. It was here that I first kissed him. It was here that I explored every inch of his soft skin. It was here that we’d talked about moving somewhere else on graduation day, and getting a small place to ourselves. I could recite all the pretty lies Eli told me. I believed it then. And although I hate him for leaving me, for dating a girl seemingly just to spite me, for whispering those same promises to her, I miss him. I miss his voice, his smell, his laugh, the feel of his skin against mine, all of it. 

I messed it up. I honestly believed that my family would love me no matter what. But ‘I’ll always love you’ didn’t include if I came out loving another man. My one confession is what brought on the beatings. Usually, I would wear long sleeves and pants to cover my mother’s rages. But today, I couldn’t find energy to hide them. Bruises create an array of purple and blue down my arms. I understand her though. I can’t bring her grandchildren, or carry on the Woo legacy. The shame that society would place on her would be too much for her feeble heart. So I understand. 

I glance down at my watch. Five minutes until lunch. I shuffle towards the ledge. It seems to beckon me. For months, I’ve been able to fight it. Today, I’m too exhausted. I crawl up, until I’m standing on the ledge. Below me, is a soft field of grass. I look up to the sun. Although it is warm, I can’t fully feel it any more. I can understand what it is that I’m about to do, but I feel totally numb. I understand the gravity of my current situation, but I don’t feel fear. Anticipation, perhaps. But no dread. 

My mind wanders to my funeral. Who will attend? Certainly Eli, pretending to care. I snicker at the idea that he’ll bring Luna. That would be a wonderful irony.

Suddenly, a tear escapes my eyes. I’m slightly shocked. I haven’t cried since Eli left me. It’s a nasty feeling, crying. I shake my head slightly. I’m not going to cry right before I jump. 

I should let my final thoughts be happy memories.

I think about the time Eli and I laid on this roof, looking at clouds, and talking about the future like we had one together.

“Hey Eli, you know I love you, right?”

“I love you too, Kevin.”

“Tell me about what we’re going to do after high school.”

“Well, the day we graduate, we’ll board a plane. Maybe to the US, who knows. We’ll find a place that will accept us. We’ll get a small little house, with daisies in front, just like you want.”

“And dark wood flooring, not lightwood, because a certain someone likes to spill drinks on the floor”. Eli giggles. “Where’s the lie?” I break into laughter.

I turn, so I’m no longer facing the courtyard, but instead, our roof. I close my eyes. At that moment, a final gust of wind provides me the push I need just as the bell rings. I’m not falling though. I open my eyes. I’m flying. The warm sun beams against my face. A sharp pain floods through my body. I blink, and instead of soaring through the sky, I am laying in the grass. I hear a scream, and hear people rushing over. My eyes, although open, can’t see anything but bits and pieces of the scene unfolding around of me. I can’t catch any of the words the students are screaming at each other. I could swear I hear a familiar voice approaching, but I’m not sure. The same voice grabs my shoulders and demands that I stay with him. I catch a glimpse of the bleach-blonde hair I’ve grown to both love and hate.

Eli.

Sorry, my dear. I’m already free. I take a breath, and as I exhale, I can see the scene from above, as if I am floating above my body. Eli’s white-blonde hair is covering my face. I gag a little. I’m not looking so great. Eli screams at a student to call for help, then turns back to me, or what used to be me. 

I’m free.

Goodbye, Eli.