The wet breeze from the hotel window where I was staying on a business trip in Copenhagen, Denmark, felt good. I’d opened that window for a reason, and I knew what it was. After two years of sobriety, I was in the middle of a terrible relapse.
Death, I reasoned, would be the ultimate hard stop. It would end all remorse, all regrets, all guilt, all feelings. It would just be over and whatever I left behind would be for the living to deal with. Not me. And whatever the consequences, they certainly seemed preferable to my continued existence.
I walked unsteadily to the window, threw one leg over, and straddled the sill, leaning back against the jamb, a drink balanced on my stomach to sip from. My right leg dangled heavily over the void. I could just stay here, I thought groggily, and let gravity make the decision.
Read More: Something Miraculous Happened in Denmark – Guideposts
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