Young Writers Society

I never thought it would come to this. How could anyone choose between something so life changing. Making a choice that I will never be able to take back. Choosing something that I'm sure most people only dream of. Each choice seems like the right one, but it can't be, it's not possible to choose this. From what I'v experienced, it should be an easy decision, so what is it that's holding me back?

I looked over the grey ledge to find people scurrying around the streets of Toronto trying to fit everything in to their busy day. Some were desperately trying to find a decent cup of coffee that would satisfy their headaches caused from lack of caffeine. Others darted around one another hoping they weren't late for the bus that would take them to work.

“They look so...normal. They look so human,” I spoke to myself. “If only it were true. I mean, technically they are, but at the same time they aren't anywhere near close.” But why? Why am I here? What could I have possibly done to deserve this? How long have I been here anyways? How did I even get here? One minute I was sitting on a swing at the local park watching some children run by, and then poof...I'm on top of the world.

I looked around at my surroundings from above. To the left, right and below me I only saw more busy streets and buildings. Above was the bluest sky I had ever seen, the warmest sun I had ever felt, and not a cloud nor plane in sight; the birds had a whole sky to themselves.

Over by the coffee shop I spotted my friends, Marcus and Maci, standing on the side walk while Marcus lit a smoke. As if they knew I was watching them, both looked up and waved. I wasn't sure if I should wave back but either way I did anyways. You would think that friends you've known since pre-school would be worried sick if they caught you standing on top of a 40 story building on a windy day, but I'm not surprised they aren't. It's like that around here. After a short amount of time, both walk inside the coffee shop holding hands.

My expresso brown hair wisps around my face in the gentle wind, bouncing off my nose and lips, and passing by my blue eyes before settling back down onto my shoulders perfectly. Thats another thing I've noticed since I got here, there are no flaws. No imperfections. Nothing that needs to be fixed. You never hear of crimes being committed, you never read about terrorist’s attacks in other countries, and there is barely any news about what's going on politically because everything is in order. When the topic surfaces in conversation, it is passed off in confusion.

At first I just thought it was because society had finally opened their eyes to the kind of world we have been living in, but then I noticed the little things. No litter scattered the streets, buildings and cars all looked brand new, and if you're the type of person that looks down while you walk you would see that not a single crack in the side walk could be found. But the thing that really got me were the people. If you paid close attention to everyone, you would find not a single scar, blemish, or grey hair upon them. Everyone and everything was absolutely flawless; a perfect piece of art.