Standing on the edge of a tall building and tempting the notion of leaping. It changes you if you would step back and decide against the action.
You hear things differently, almost as if they are sweeter. Your ears hold on to the notes, for they have tasted the fear of death. It is in the core of your body. Food excites the body; what was once tasteless is now one further meal from which you would be exempt.
But one thing doesn't change. That desire will always be there. Every bit of trial - of hardship - will make you go back. Your eyes scanning the horizon, the ground, the people scurrying about or perhaps the notion that soon what is empty will be flush with life. Life all around you, life that you wish to rescind.
The brain is an odd beast. It can tell your ears to enjoy the notes of a song, and at the same time wish for all the notes to extinguish in one fell swoop. For, much to our dismay, the soil around us is not musical.
Or is it?