Chapter 30
Ididn’t wake up wanting to die that day.
Which was weird. Unsettling, even. Like waking up and finding your bed on the ceiling.
Today I just felt the need to be high up.
That’s how I ended up sitting on top of a rusted antenna tower in the middle of nowhere, nine hundred feet in the air, with a turkey sandwich, and a crossword puzzle.
Probably not exactly the kind of video my subscribers had in mind when they followed Die Trying, but I recorded it anyway.
The tower rose out of the field like a forgotten skeleton; each rung of its ladder corroded and flaking.
There was a metallic smell in the air and as I gripped each rung, my hands came away sticky and covered in rust residue.
The climb was easy. Too easy. The kind of ease that made it feel like I was cheating.
There was no wind, no loose bolts, not even any adrenaline, unless I looked down.
I tried not to do that. I climbed rung after rung after rung until the sky swallowed the land and the ground stopped looking like anything real.
The air grew colder as I climbed. I filmed it, hoping they could hear more than just my heavy breathing in the background.
The platform at the top was barely big enough for me to sit cross-legged on.
I anchored myself against the inner rails by bracing my boots against them.
The metal was warm from the sun, and it smelled faintly of rain, even though it hadn’t rained all day.
A single red light blinked slowly beside me—probably warning planes not to crash into it.
I liked the idea of something else being up here with me, even if it was just a light.
I pulled out the sandwich first. Warm from my backpack.
It didn’t do much to make the dry bread, cheese and turkey with too much mayo taste better, but it didn’t matter, I ate it anyway.
Then I took out the crossword. One of those little dollar booklets from a gas station.
“Five letters. Not dead, but not alive either.”
I wrote in: “Empty.”
Not the right answer. But it worked in my mind anyway.
For two hours, I didn’t think about anything.
Not the channel. Not Carter. Not my childhood.
Not the list. I didn’t even think about falling.
I just sat there, breathing in the thin air, watching birds fly below me, which was a weird view to have.
The sun moved in the sky and my skin grew pink.
A helicopter passed in the distance, but it didn’t come close.
It was the most peace I’d felt all year.
And then I ruined it. Because when you spend the majority of your whole life wanting to die and then you don’t take advantage of the current situation, your brain starts yelling at you.
Why didn’t you jump? Why didn’t you dangle from the edge?
Why didn’t you at least pretend? This video will be the one that makes everyone unfollow you.
I started to feel stupid. Weak. Like I’d wasted the height.
Wasted the silence. Wasted the moment. Like peace wasn’t allowed unless I earned it through pain.
I tried to ignore it. I filled out the crossword until my pen ran out of ink.
I ate the crust of my sandwich, but it tasted like sawdust. The sun began to dip lower, and the fields took on a copper hue.
The red light next to me continued to blink; that and my self-deprecation were the two most consistent things up here.
The climb down was longer. Not physically—just emotionally.
Every rung was a step back down into the noise.
My hands slipped once as I began to sweat.
My arm shook a little as I steadied myself.
With every bit of my descent, my thoughts grew thicker and heavier; my shame returned and crowded my brain.
By the time I hit the ground, the guilt and worry were clawing at my ribs.
My legs ached, my palms were gritty, and my shirt was damp with sweat.
I sat in the dirt for a while, letting the antenna tower stretch back up toward the sky without me.
Letting the heat of the day fade from my skin.
I wondered if today was proof that I was too weak to do this.
Or too strong, or maybe both. I pulled out my phone and called Carter.
“Yo,” he answered on the second ring. “Please tell me you didn’t die somewhere with no signal.”
“Nope. Still breathing.”
“Well, shit. I owe Liam five bucks.”
I let the silence stretch. He picked up on it fast.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m getting bored of doing these.”
A pause.
“Bored?”
“Yeah.”
“You just climbed a fucking skyscraper in the middle of corn country.”
“I brought a sandwich.”
Another beat of silence. Then, “Dude.”
“It’s my most boring video.”
Carter groaned. “You know how many people would kill to do what you just did?”
“I guess.”
He exhaled. “Look. You’ve got what, five left?”
“Yeah.”
“Then just make it happen. Knock ‘em out. Wrap up the series. Go out with a bang. You’re almost there.”
I didn’t say anything. But I knew what he meant.
Not go out with a bang like die. Just… finish it.
For the brand, for the arc, for the monetization.
Each video brought in more than Carter’s annual rent.
Of course he wanted me to keep going. But what I didn’t say out loud, what I couldn’t say, was that I didn’t just want to quit the channel.
I kind of wanted to quit the list too. I didn’t, though.
I booked a flight that night. I packed light, just took the basics.
And by morning, I was on my way to New Jersey.
Destination: El Toro. The most dangerous roller coaster in the world.
Because if I couldn’t die quietly on top of a metal mountaintop, maybe I could do it while screaming my lungs out with strangers while pretending I was having a great time.
“This one felt different. Watching you sit up there… kinda gave me chills. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to just be still.”
“Watching you do that climb and then just eat a sandwich up there… magical. I want more videos like this one.”
“I used to work on towers like that. It’s no joke. The way you filmed the sky and the birds was beautiful. Thank you for showing us the quiet side of danger.”
“Your crossword answer got me. Empty. Cuz same.”
“My favorite video yet. It wasn’t crazy like your other ones, but I liked seeing you be peaceful. Please give yourself more of that.”