"I never used to be thinking about a suicide. But at that very moment, when my legs were hanging in the cold air, I was wondering. What does make them commit the suicide? Is it something in a connection with their family, friends or love? I want to understand. Some people say, they are just selfish. They were unsuccessful in their lives, so they want to be important at least this one day. The day of their death. Should I imagine how big wound would it make me, I wouldn’t be sure. If a member of my family died, I would be desperate of course, but would it make me commit the suicide? What leads to this act? Do they suffer from vain feelings or from the loss of meaning of life…? They have to have immense sorrow, when even the fear of death doesn’t stop them, neither the self-preservation instinct, which is among humankind highly developed. I honestly think, that everyone has the right to make decisions about their lives. On the contrary, they should realize that by committing a suicide, they can hurt others too. The thing that they have been hurt, doesn’t mean they have the entitlement to hurt others, does it? Thus I wished they wouldn’t do it. Every day die so much people and most of them don’t want it. Why would somebody thrown away the possibility to live? There is always a reason for living, at least one. You are alive. And what makes the life so beautiful is that somewhere it hides friendship and love.
*****
And I was here. High enough, feeling the hard wind blowing around my face. This freezing and sharp air. Am I able to do it? Was blowing my mind. The thing I came for, the thing I put all my efforts in? I wasn’t sure, but I was definitely scared. Unbelievably scared. I have suffered many strokes of fate already, but this was something I really wanted to do."

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