I am judged. The dense stares burn, but finally all attention is on me. It's what I wanted, I guess. Not everyone's attention, exactly. Just someone's. But nobody here gets that. Nobody's read the diary of a broken spirit, they only witness the result of a broken mind. They don't understand that power. The power of taking someone else's life is more weight on the mind compared to being the decider of your own fate. There's no one protesting. As I walk the hall of heaven, the one's who let God decide their fate manufacture scenarios as to why I played God. Depression, abandonment, bullying, or just plain tired of the ways of the world. Tired of the earth. Many of them argue silently that I "took the easy way out," but I didn't. I took the easier way out and though it easier, does not make it necessarily easy. The process, yes, is simpler. Handier and quicker and straight to the point and you decide when it ends. You decide when people stopped running your life and when life becomes your marionette. But you have that moment. That moment when you doubt yourself. That moment you ponder. "Maybe I'll regret it." Asking yourself "what if life is as good as it gets?" But you snap out of it. You long for the freedom. I longed for the freedom. So I jumped. From how high, I'll never know. But I do know this: I froze. From the time I left to the time I landed, I was frozen in time. The wind allowing me to fly momentarily escaping the grasp of gravity before it hugged me, again, and pulled me. Constricted me. Imprisoned me. But that moment. The moment of weightlessness, the moment of euphoria I experienced on my trip down took my breath away. I was unbounded from the laws of the earth, temporarily. As I walk the hall of heaven, I am judged. But as I stand at the end of this hall face-to-face with the only man who can rightfully judge me, I can only say this: It was worth it to be free. It was worth it to play God.