Everything’s a fucking joke my mate says… We’re sitting on the edge of a cliff, not the biggest cliff to be fair but it’s still a damn cliff. We were both young, blue balled by youth and looking for a way to retire anxiety so we would climb up to this mountain and dance on the edge every once and a while. It was a nice escape from the rigid existence we led daily. It gave us a power, it was harmless… Till my mate said everything’s a fucking joke, as soon as I heard that my heart fell to the earth. My head was turned to the right and I was watching an eagle hunt for lunch, stalking the skies from north to south then east to west. My mate was on my left out of sight and as I turned around in horror I knew he was gone; and I was right. He was depressed, lonely and angry and he had the fucking gall to pop his broken body off of the edge, with me right beside. I croaked, unable to scream. He was gone, the trees below swaying deftly in the wind. I had heard no crack, no splat, and no cries. He had been silently enveloped by the green grasp of the forest; it was too peaceful. I began to bleed tears and horror, frantically clawingg my way up the moss away from the edge I had… We had been on, together. I made it far enough to where I could be swallowed by the forest and then I dropped on the needle ridden turf with a silent thump, and began to cry some more.