When she was younger, she used to be fearless. She would peer over the side of escalators, really tiptoeing on the very tips of her shoes, a skill she learnt from pointe in ballet class, not finding it painful at all. Going down the stairs, she would skip every 3 steps just above a staircase landing, opting to jump instead. She lived on the 15th storey, but that didn't stop her from grabbing the tallest chair and sitting on it to gaze out at the trees below from the only ungrilled window in the house. She liked walking in the rain, even though she never failed to go out with an umbrella safely tucked in her bag. Often, much to the bewilderment of her friends, she would hand them a perfectly usable umbrella and head out into the pouring rain bareheaded. And she loved gazing at the sea.
Then she grew up. And now, she never looks over the sides of the escalator, not even to see where she's going. Stairs are no longer meant for jumping. And though she still lives on the 15th storey she spends most of her times indoors, away from the windows and the outside, because she's too busy.
But today during lunch hour she is restless, sadden by some circumstance that she can't share, and she goes walking. She walks and she walks and she walks. And she crosses all manner of roads and bridges, not noticing the slight drizzle that specks her blouse. She walks past crowded benches, through quiet parks, past bustling underpasses, until she comes upon a close to empty boulevard.
There are seats lining the riverside there; she takes one, and only then does she realise how beautiful the spot she has chosen is. From here, she can watch the spray of the merlion, the gliding boats, the slowly shifting clouds, the rippling water. But as she looks down at the rippling water, her heart seizes in fear, and she has to look away.
What's wrong with me? she thinks furiously. Am I now afraid of water too?
She forces herself to look at the sky, to watch the sole patch of blue constantly reframed by the fussy clouds, and thinks to herself. At least I can't fall into the sky...
It's then that she realises she's not afraid of water, or heights, or the lightning from thunderstorms. She's afraid of death. No, that has to be the wrong word... when she looks over the side of an escalator or a bridge all that fills her mind is jump now Now NOW NOW and that's what her heart seizes in response to.
She's afraid of how badly she wants to die.
She thinks she's not afraid of death; if she were to jump now, all she'd think about when she was drowning was keeping her shoes on, and if she lost them just before someone saved her, she'd probably look pleadingly at them and say, My shoes have fallen off... could you get them for me?
But she doesn't jump, and as she forces herself to look at the beautiful sky, for some reason she's crying.