I want to stop crying. Is it selfish to want more?

Standing there, he looked down to the waves of the ocean. He stood there on the bridge, his body on the railings of the bridge his face red and puffy, his eyes stinging from crying for too long. His name was Franklin Jacobs, he recently failed his exams for law school. This was the third time. He was deep in debt, but that won't matter soon.

He looked out into the sunset was still so beautiful, a scene like this made what happened next almost poetic. His eyes were still stinging, he had ran out of tears long ago, staring at the setting sun eased his pain, made him wonder what the world would've been like if he were luckier, if he were better, if things were just.. fair wasn't the right word. All of life he did what he was told, his family, his friends, his girlfriend. They all always told him what to do. And he tried his best to impress them, to get their respect, to obtain the affection he wanted so bad.

He shook his head, he didn't deserve affection. After failing his exam, once again, his family disowned him, he was the middle child of five others. He came from a family that were famous for having well respected lawyers, judges, and politicians. He however was a failure, or that's how he felt. Growing up he tried his best, pushed himself to meet their expectations, whether sick, tired, or in pain. He would always try to accomplish his work. But to himself, and his family this was an obvious sign of wasted investments. He was kicked out of his home and was forced to find an apartment for himself.

Lack of family and crushed dreams? No problem he still had his girlfriend. He thought. She moved on, he remembered all the "I love you" and all the "I promise" that they'd say to each other. A part of him was betrayed, hurt. But he wasn't surprised. This was a long time coming. He didn't want to think about it but he knew she wasn't interested in him, at least not in the way he loved her. He wanted to scream for her to come back to him, he wanted to run after her and beg for her to come back. But he knew it was already too late. At this point he didn't feel loss, he only had one thing left he could do.

He asked himself if his life was meant to be this way. two faced friends, cheating girlfriends, bastard genes. He wanted his life to mean something, all these years he'd face the world with a smile. But each time he fell he'd tell himself tomorrow would be better than the last. It never got better, no matter he pleaded, prayed, begged to whatever was listening. Nothing would Answer back.

This time he made one more prayer. Hoping that someone, something would save him from what he was about to do. That someone would call out his name and save him. That a brother, his ex, that someone, anyone, would hug him and tell him he was loved. That he mattered to them. He stood there by the bridge's railing, tears dried on his face, his face still red and puffy, the sunset now gone, replaced by a blanket of twilight, with stars so distant, so far. As if mocking his attempt to call upon a savior, they shone bright, the moon waxing. He took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. "Goodbye, I wish I mattered more, I'm sorry Alexa, Dad.. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

There was no fanfare, no dramatic rescues, no last moment rage, no heroes in capes, no golden haired aliens, no gods of red and blue telling him everything will be alright. Just the incoming mass of black he saw rushing at him. As he got closer and closer, he closed his eyes. He believed that this was the natural conclusion, that he never mattered. The sea never looked so soft to him. When he made first contact with the ocean, his face split, his torso was broken, his lungs were filling with sea water, he wanted to fight, he wanted to matter, he wanted to be loved. He wanted a friend who would've saved him from this, he wanted to be saved. A friend was all he needed, but he didn't deserve one. His last thoughts were of how cold the sea was, the burning sensation of the salt water against his opened wounds. His friends, if you called them that, were the type to keep you around cause you offered them something, at times around them he felt like an outsider looking in, and the way they'd remember he was there. Not a friend, just a stranger watching him. Maybe that's what he's always been to most people.

As darkness consumed his vision, he felt his lungs burning as he finally felt the last moments of his life leave this mortal coil. His body, and his tears, lost to the sea, filled with the bitterness and apathy of many before him, his broken body unseen and mourned only by the same stars that mocked his cries for a savior.

Franklin woke up, but his body was in pain. Stitches and scars from where the fall and torn through his body. He found himself in sterile room. His vision was weak and hazy, from what he remembered he had taken his life but where ever he was now. It didn't look like paradise or hell.