I was daydreaming.

He was standing on the edge, waiting to jump. Except this isn't one of those weird things I get into. He seriously was. And I climbed out of the window, next to him, and thought to myself, "If he was actually going to do it, he would've already." I guess he heard me. Because he looked at me with pain in his eyes. And he did it. He jumped off of the edge, down to the ground, plunging to his death. "Oh, shit," was all I said. I didn't have much time to say anything else. Why? Because he was beside me again, back on the ledge of the window, laughing. And laughing. And laughing. "My life sucks right now, but that wouldn't kill me," he said, completely serious. "I know what you're thinking," the guy continued, around eighteen. "Who am I? WHAT am I?" His face became serious again, the pain flashing in his eyes one more time. And then he closed them. And that is when my mind decided to end the daydream. Sometimes I hate my mind.