He commits suicide, but does he die?

It was 8 pm on a Friday evening. He was standing on the edge of the open terrace of his office building. It was a thirteen floor buliding overlooking a busy street. He saw the vehicles speeding away on the road below. 'Mean streets'! Rain was coming down in small drops. He had always loved the rain. But not today. He was planning to jump off from the altitude. He was sick of the people, the objects, the emotions associated with them and particularly, of himself. He thought about the triviality of the world around him, and the thought made him to allow himself a wry smile.

Anyone may be forgiven. But not those who lack the courage of their own greatness. Not me. I was not born to be a second-hander. What have I done to myself? I do not deserve forgiveness. And I do not believe in any person other than me forgiving myself. I love myself. I have always done and I have always lived for myself. But why is my thought process diametrically opposite to that of the world. Why does each and every route, every concept, every opinion in this damn world always lead to sacrifice and love for others. Doesn't this give the impression of every person in the world being a bootlicking sucker.

Thoughts crowded his brain, and he was unable to take it any more. Over the last few minutes, he had developed a severe headache and the pain was excruciating. He was unable to take it anymore. he had to put a full stop to the nonsense. he had to take the next step. He moved ahead, he stumbled a little, but he was ok. It was over quickly, suddenly he felt light and feather-like. He was sinking, out of this demented world.

Ram woke up with a jerk on his bed. He had sweat beads across his forehead. He felt exhausted. He searched for his alarm clock to check the time. It was 3am in the morning. 'What a nightmare'! He reached for a the waterjug and poured it into the glass beside it. He drifted back to sleep after sometime. He did not want to think about the dream again. 'What if it was true....'