Answer:
read below!
Step-by-step explanation:
i reach my hand out to touch the snow, a soft flake of white landing in my palm. it was only one, as if the rest were avoiding my grasp, and it was small. i could see very little of the design etched into the ice before it would inevitably melt away with the heat of my skin. it would leave a small drop of water to dampen my hand before there would be no trace of its existence left.
snow reminded me of humans. only if you were a legend or a prodigy would you have any proof of your life be passed along beyond your death. we as social creatures dont bother to register the past, and we only care about the present. history is important, but ignored nevertheless. even within our own families, its rare to know the first name of our great-grandmother. stories could be passed along throughout generations, but they would change over time, until they are no longer stories about your. theyre simply family tales. eventually, all humans will melt away like the snow had. eventually, i will die. i will die without a family who could pass on my story, and i would simply have existed just to be forgotten in the end.
some people may be sad when i die, and they will wish me insincere apologies for not being there when i needed it most. but they will move on to find people who they enjoyed much more; humans are social creatures, after all. we can only life in false grief for so long before its time to let go. they will place flowers by my grave on the day i am buried, and shed tears of false sorrow. but the flowers will be left unkept and ignored, and will slowly wilt away. theyll choose the chrysanthemums, which i am allergic to, for the sake of symbolism. but the reality is, they can only care for so long. they might call my number on accident, forgetting that there is no one on the other end of the line. though deleting my contact to clear out space only a few months in the future. im not one whos life will be passed on, but i know im not the only one.
my winter coat fell slightly off my shoulders as i dropped my dampened hand to my side, looking out at the view of the half-frozen river. winter in the morning was beautiful, who knew that the snow could fall so beautifully in front of a rising sun. the sky was a shade of blue, with soft pinks and yellows peaking over the horizon. it was a shame that it was cold, truly, or else this could be much more enjoyable.
i had never enjoyed the cold, but it kept my body numb and my brain silent. cold days were always the quietest, after all. i touched the snow-covered railing, letting out a soft sigh. it was hard to understand your own mind, i knew that. but in these last few moments, i had thought that it would be for the best to try and put my mind at ease. i wasnt nervous, nor was i scared. i was rather calm. i was at peace with the world and myself, and it would be the only time i could ever be.