Life is supposed to be like a box of chocolates, right?Because that would imply that life is mostly sweet and enjoyable.And I guess for most people it is like that.But my life seems more like a box of rotten and bitter chocolates filled with crickets and maggots and fish eggs and a whole bunch of other nasty things.Really nasty things.

And that’s exactly why I’m sitting here on the roof of this huge building, watching the world below me.Did I mention that the building is tall?Because it is.Very tall.I can see for miles and miles.I’m so high up that the people below look like ants.They wander down the streets, like busy little worker ants.Cars look like beetles, bigger than ants, but still small.The beetles have shiny eyes.If it was dark, I’d still be able to see them.The parkway in the distance is so packed with the beetles that it seems as if the pavement is alive.That’s what the highway is.A snake.And the smaller roads are worms.The houses are ant hills.Those are where the ants go at the end of the day.The river in the distance is a puddle.And the puddle has a stick crossing it; a bridge.The ants and beetles use the stick to cross the puddle.That way they don’t have to go around.There are other tall buildings around too.Those are plants.A lonely boat floats down the river.The boat is a water skimmer, one of those bugs that swim on the surface of water, looking as if they’re walking on it.

And then there’s me.The germ.The speck of dirt.The grain of sand.The insignificant little cell sitting on top of one of the flowers.

Even if I went down and joined the ants and beetles on the ground, I would still feel like nothing.

I watch one particular beetle as it starts it journey traveling along one of the worms.It’s a red beetle.And it’s carrying four ants that I know well.My parents, my brother, Sean, and my sister, Tina.There should be six.But there aren’t.The fifth is gone.Forever.And the sixth is halfway to being gone.Not quite there, but on the way.

The fifth was my littlest brother, Thomas.But he’s dead.He died a month ago.Along with my heart and soul.He was only nine.How he died?Well, I’m not really ready to say.

The sixth person, if you haven’t already guessed, is me.I should be in that car with everyone else, on the way to Six Flags to have a great time.But I’m not.I don’t deserve to have a great time.I don’t deserve anything.So I faked being sick and came here to sit on top of my favorite building.The tallest building in town, with a whopping thirty-one floors.I come here to think.I came here the night my grandmother died.I came here the night before I started middle school.I came here the night before I started high school.I came here the night my first boyfriend broke up with me.I came here the night Thomas died.And I’ve come here every night since then.I like to sit on the edge, where a strong wind could easily push me off, and watch the world below me.There’s just something about the danger of it that helps me think.

I sit there for a while, watching everyone live their happy lives, completely oblivious to mine.I envy them.They don’t have what I have to look forward to.They’re lucky.And I hate them for that.

After an hour or so, I get tired of sitting on the hard concrete.I stand, swaying a little on the edge of the building as a gust of wind comes.If I fell off right now, I wouldn’t care.I imagine myself falling off and then suddenly growing wings.I fly away into the horizon, gone forever.Like Thomas.

But I know that if I fell now, there would be no flying.There would only be falling.A long, long time of falling.And then it would be over as I hit the pavement below, squashed like a bug on a windshield.

I wish I was a bug.A big, beautiful butterfly.I wouldn’t have to worry about a thing.And when the time comes for me to die, I’d never know.I’d probably die from some little kid like Thomas catching me in a net and putting me in a cage to suffocate.Thomas used to love doing that.He’d catch a butterfly and put it in an empty sour cream container with holes in the top.He’d give it food and a stick to rest on, and try really hard to keep it alive.But no matter what, it always died.Like Thomas did.

I walk to the door leading to the stairs, making sure to lock it on the way in.Nobody ever comes up here.Only people who work in the building are allowed, and even then it’s only with the permission of the owner.Who would want to risk their life standing on top of a building like this?I would.But no one else would.They’re not a stupid teenager like me.

When I get to the top floor, I steal a quick glance down the hallway to make sure no one’s there.When I’m sure the place is empty, I stride down the hall to the elevators.From there, it’s just a quick trip down to the first floor î ºthe lobby of the hotel.The lobby is deserted.There are a couple of workers standing behind desks.They’re absorbed in a conversation, too busy to notice me slipping out the front doors.

I get my bike from behind some bushes across the street and then ride slowly back to my house.The whole way there, I coast in and out of the middle of the street, letting cars get to about five feet behind me before swerving to the side and letting them pass.As expected, no one’s home when I get there.Good.I can make as much noise as I want and no one will hear me when I scream.Perfect.

I enter the empty house just as the phone rings.Probably my parents checking to make sure I’m okay.Don’t they know that I’m sick?If I’m sick, I shouldn’t be expected to answer the phone.Which is exactly why I’m letting the answering machine get it.

As I walk down the hall to my room, I pass the room that Thomas used to share with Sean.His things still haven’t been cleaned out.I wonder if anyone would notice if I burned them.All they do is remind me of everything that I don’t want to remember.I don’t want to think of him anymore.But I can’t get him out of my mind.I can’t get what I did out of my mind.

Pushing those thoughts to the side, I enter my room. My second sanctuary.The only place that I know I can be truly alone. My parents don’t enter ever.I don’t think anyone besides me has seen my room for years. I like it that way.I feel safe in here.

Quickly, I take off my shoes and then head to the kitchen. In the fridge is a bottle of Corona with my name on it. My parents don’t know that I drink.They hardly even notice that I’m drinking some of their beer. Or, at least, they haven’t noticed in the past month, which is about how long I’ve been drinking.

Alcohol is like my punishment wrapped in silver lining. I’ve really started to like it lately. But I also know that every bottle I drink shaves time off of my life. Fine with me.The faster I’m gone, the happier I’ll be. But I don’t want to die yet. I would never do that to my parents. And I don’t think I want to face Thomas in the afterlife, if there is one. He’ll probably be really mad at me.If I even see him. He probably went to Heaven.I don’t think I’ll be so lucky.Hell is where I’m probably going. It’s what I deserve.

I finish the beer and lock myself in my room. I search my bookshelf for the perfect book. I love books.They’re my escape from reality.A good book can keep me busy for hours.It can help push my life away for a while, so that I can get a few minutes of peace.

I spend the rest of the day alternating between reading and watching TV. At one point, I sit on my bed and let my misery consume me for a few minutes.If I don’t do this daily, it becomes worse at night, when the house is dark and silent and my head is loud.

This has been my life for the past month. This is what I’ve become.And this is what I’ll be until I finish with my atonement.