Sean: I suppose you’re all wondering why I gathered you here today. I mean, this is all kind of sudden – no, please, don’t get up. How has everyone’s day been? Good? Wow, the weather is sure great today. And the view from up here? Outstanding. Hey, does anyone know any good jokes? No? (Pauses for an answer)

S: Oh yeah, that’s right. You don’t. Because you’re pigeons. (Turns away from the pigeons) Son of a b****.

Holden: (Sitting on an electrical box a little higher than Sean) Well, at least now you’re sure you’ve officially lost it. You’ve finally gone insane. (pause) I mean really, if you were right in the head, would you be up here right now? And you can chalk up your final words on Earth to being an awkward conversation with a flock of small, blind birds. You, my friend, are a champ.

S: (Looks at Holden, then looks back at the pigeons) So…wow, would you look at the time! (Looks at watch-less wrist) It’s getting late. The clock is ticking, and the sidewalks are filling up. Let’s get this show on the road. (Covers eyes) I should have brought my sunglasses: it’s too d*mn bright out right now.

H: (Hops off of the box) Alright, for Christ’s sake get on with it. You’ve been here for twenty minutes, and that’s nineteen-and-a-half minutes too long. (Hands on Sean’s shoulders, guiding him to the edge) There you go. Feet on the edge. No breeze. No sound. No color. But I suppose it’s been that way for a while now, hasn’t it? Your world is painted in fifty shades of gray, reference to the Twilight-esque adult erotica book - such words should never appear in the same sentence - completely unintended.

S: You know what; I don’t want my last thought to be about Twilight. Let’s take a seat.

(Both sit on the edge)

H: What in the h*ll are you doing here, man? How did you let it get to this? (Shakes head) You’re pathetic dude. Seriously. What’s been so hard about your life? Your parents yell at you sometimes? You’re stressed out in school? Everyone expects you to be perfect? Talk about terrible. Have you looked at the car you drive? Your house? The fact that you have a house? Get over yourself.

S: Actually, you know what? I don’t care how great that stuff makes my life sound. It hurts to laugh. It hurts to do anything. All I want to do is sleep, but I can’t, and when I do, I have a nightmare so bad that reality is better than my dreams, and that’s saying something because my reality sucks. And you know what the worst part is? No one noticed a thing. (Gestures at pigeons) Not even these d*mn pigeons right here that are watching all this go down. If all my friends and family were standing here right now, they’d comment on how high up this is, and on how I should probably come inside off of the ledge or I might get a cold. I’d step off, and they’d all think I just slipped. People are oblivious to everything, even though they subconsciously realize the truth. It’s easier to see something like this coming and pass it off as a phase, or as teenage moodiness. That way, they don’t have to take part of the blame for what happens. But who’s to blame but me? No one. This is my choice.

H: This is a big decision. You step off of this ledge, and you lose any chance at becoming some influential person in the future. Theoretically, you shouldn’t even be thinking about a future at this point. So shut the h*ll up.

S: I’m so tired of everything. I’m tired of being tired after actually getting some sleep. I’m tired of walking in slow motion. I’m tired of stuttering, making jokes that I don’t even find funny, and getting confused. I’m tired of not caring about anything. I’m tired of sitting here on this d*mn ledge. (Stands up)

H: So go for it. You don’t have to sit here anymore.

S: But I’m scared.

H: Scared?! (Stands up) You have no emotion left. You jump, and you leave behind everything that has destroyed you. You were here almost two years ago and you didn’t follow through, and look where that got you. Nowhere. It got you right back where you almost ended the last time. You’ve come full circle, and the only way out is down.

S: What does that get me, though? What comes after this? If there’s an afterlife, this sh*tty feeling is just going to continue. I just won’t be able to see anyone I actually care about. But if there’s not an afterlife, it’ll all be over. Done. I won’t feel this head-splitting agony any longer. It will finally be quiet, dark, and painless. That sounds worth it to me.

H: But if there is an afterlife, and it just happens to be the one that Christians believe in, God is going to look down on you for killing yourself. (Climbs back onto the box) You’ll suffer as some knotty old tree on one of the lowest planes of H*ll.

S: I am so glad that the Inferno provided me with such a wonderful perspective on my life after death. Thanks, Dante. This pain is just going to continue if I stay here. (Starts pacing) I tried medicine – it made me worse. I tried talking to a shrink – nothing changed. When I first tried this, I got caught and everyone thought that they fixed the problem. They missed the alcohol addiction. They missed the cutting. They missed the following three suicide attempts, the panic attacks, and the anxiety. Now, they’re missing this. I can’t have any more of those conversations. (Slams fist on wall)

H: So, you’re saying you’d rather go blindly into a realm that most people try to stay away from as long as possible? (Lowers sunglasses)

S: Well, I’m not going into this completely bli–

H: Obviously. You’re standing (stands with arms spread) on the roof of a three story church complex in the middle of Brooklyn, jacketless, and talking to pigeons because you don’t want to commit to something. Sounds pretty blind to me.

S: I’ve been here before. I know what I’m doing. I should have just done it the first time. (Turns away)

H: So you want to just jump off of this building and leave everything behind? (Jumps off of box). You’re never going to see Chad again. Or Marcy. You’re going to die.

S: That’s kind of the point…and they don’t care anyway. (Sits back on the ledge) It wouldn’t matter to them at all after a while. But I’d miss them…maybe this is wrong.

H: Are you just going to back out of it? Again? (Walks toward Sean) You just can’t commit to anything can you? You already said you feel sh*tty. You’ve tried everything. No one even notices that you’re struggling. You’re just going to keep on walking through life with that mask? You can make all of these problems go away with one step. (Slaps Sean) Stop being a pansy and do it.

S: What side are you on? What if I get banished to some terrible place after this happens? It’s almost better to just wait it out. (Stands up)

H: Man up. This will be your third week without sleep. You haven’t eaten since Sunday. (Act out following phrases) Your head hurts, your knees are giving out, you shake so bad that you can’t even hold a glass of water, and you can’t go one day without thinking about killing yourself. You’re done.

S: Maybe I don’t need to go that far though. (Starts walking towards door) I could call Marcy and –

H: (Steps in front of Sean) You’re worthless. Give it up already.

S: But I can do something different! I’m not okay with not knowing what’s going to happen after I jump, I don’t know what’s there and I don’t want to leave this and I’m scared and I can’t do it. I can’t. (Dodges past Holden)

H: Oh really? I can. (Grabs Sean’s arm)

S: No! No stop! (Struggles) Don’t…don’t please just let me stay. Let me stay.

H: Hmmm…nope. Sorry kid. Some ideas you just can’t erase. (Walks towards edge)

S: You can’t make me go! We can stay and everything will be fine. There’s still a chance. I can make everything right. I don’t want to be a knotty tree, or some speck floating in the universe. (Breaks free)

H: You’re already a speck. You don’t mean anything to this world.

S: I – stop! I want to go find Marcy! I just want to give someone a hug!

H: There’s an awfully cuddly pigeon over there. (Both look over)

S: I’m leaving.

H: Yes you are. Let’s go.

S: I’m not jumping.

H: You’re jumping.

S: Stop it!

H: The sidewalk will.

S: (Falls to knees, clutching head) SHUT UP!!

H: You, sir, are heading for a messy end.

S: I can’t even – just stop talking! (Fetal positon)

H: Make me.

S: (Struggling to speak) The sidewalk will.

H: (Condescendingly) Oh really? You talk a big game.

S: No! S***. Shut up. Just shut up please just stop shut up!

H: (Petting Sean’s head) I can’t stop. I’m you. I’m in your head. You will NEVER be able to get rid of me.