Break Time

I look at my NEC DTerm 300 phone and read the clock: 11:30, break time! I like to spend it atop the roof of my office building that overlooks Lloyd District. Even though it eats up about half of my fifteen minute break to get atop its 30 floors, it's become routine. And I enjoy the view, watching people below riding bikes, guiding dogs, and bustling along hurriedly with coffee cups looking like extensions of their hands. I step out side and I'm met by sprinkles, uggh just a preview I think shaking my head in disgust. Oregon has notoriously ugly winters. It was as I was taking a deep drag of the cigarette I was smoking that I'm unexpectedly being forced over the side of the buildings roof, someones hands grasp my ankles as my head hits cement and I'm literally being dangled from the roof. What the Fuck!!! I am screaming bloody murder, as a thousand thoughts flash into my mind like a high definition movie... I think of my mother and my screams melt into sobs, my little brother, my 5 other brothers and sister Makila who I will never get to make up with, I don't even recall what we argued about except it must have been retarded because all I know is I won't get the opportunity to say sorry and I love her now as tears are flowing.. my heart beats faster than ever as adrenaline and wishful thinking begin to emerge. And then I see all the things in my life whiz before me as my impending death dangles 30 stories below. The sound of traffic is drowned out by my heartbeat and I don't care that I've peed myself. I think about my half furnished apartment I moved into August, my telecom job I'm dispensable at and Christine..it becomes clear nobody outside of family will be at my funeral, and I think of love.. I want that to save me. To pull me up from this ledge and plant me back on my own two feet. I begin to pray like never before. God please let me live! Give me another chance at this, I see I've been doing this all wrong, my heart is breaking because I know prayers asked in times of jeopardy are frequently ignored. My lack of faith has brought me to this final moment. My meaningless existence is not going to make the news, perhaps the Oregonian's back pages. My mom is going to be devastated! Why the FUCK is this happening to me! Osama's on the loose and someone wants to murder me!?!? I continue to pray, Lord please let me live, please allow me to see my dreams come to fruition, I promise to do more for others and let my heart grow and try harder if you please let me fucking LIVE!! It's been only about 5 minutes and it feels so cold, like an eternity since I was up there having a cigarette. My clothes are soiled and face flushed hot with tears. And suddenly the unthinkable happens...I'm being lifted up slowly and I'm on my feet again! I almost faint when I see the person who put me through all this...It's ME! Apparently it wasn't a cigarette I was smoking, but some PCP. I look down to see a stained glass pipe on the concrete and pick it up smelling a residue that reminds me of embalming fluid and think ..Damn PCP is one helluva drug! Oh shit I realize my breaks over and I better go log back in. I've got customers to help. :)