On July 1st, 2014, I was home alone and turned on the television to a program about skydiving. This program gave me the proposition to become a skydiver myself. This brought me to form a daunting plan to “skydive” off the second story of my house.

I have always been enamored by skydivers; their graceful leaps from airplanes, miles high in the sky. They fall rapidly back down to earth, numbed and silenced by their adrenaline. When the vast, green patches of the earth come clearly into view, the parachute explodes behind them and propels them upwards a few yards. As the parachute inflates to its full form, the skydiver sways back and forth, floating gently back down to the ground.

Being an only child, I have to be a bit more creative when finding ways to entertain myself. As the normal twelve-year-old I was, I took influence from what I saw in the media. So I strategically planned my route and landing spots for my skydiving trip off the second story of my house. I next collected the materials I thought were necessary: a helmet, a large bed sheet, and tape. I secured the helmet safely over my head and buckled it under my chin. I then wrapped the two far ends of the bed sheet around my waist and added some tape to make sure it was secure.

With all my materials in check, I ran up the stairs, delighted by the story that this could make. The bed sheet trailed behind me, gliding over the floors, like a long gown. When I reached the window, I unlocked and opened it, revealing the screen. I felt along the edges of the screen. As I pressed the opener, the window popped out. It fell with a thud onto the overhang of the roof.

I carefully swung one leg out the window, then the other. I slid out the window, being careful not to bump my head.

I observed my surroundings. The overhang covering the deck was only about five feet wide, and fifteen feet long. Seeing that the bed sheet was now scattered with pine needles, I picked it up and shook it out. Clutching the now clean bed sheet, I tiptoed to the edge of the overhang. The toe my Converse barely touched the gutter. The monotonous gray pavement laid flat below me, seeming to look at me and say, “I hope you injure yourself on the way down.”

As I stood, balancing on the edge of the shingles, it ran through my mind that this was just south of idiotic. I contemplated the possible injuries versus the benefits, it was a million to none. “Who jumps off roofs?” I murmured to whoever was listening. Then the thought hit me, “No one jumps off roofs, but skydivers jump out of planes!” If anything, roofs have got to be safer. I neglected to address the fact my parachute was not quite as high-tech as skydivers may be, but the idea that it was sufficient convinced me. Even if I could not truly skydive, at least, I could fall with style.

I leaned forward onto my tiptoes and outstretched my arms, feeling invincible. The brisk summer breeze laced its way through my golden hair. My knees bent instinctively as I leaped into the obscurity of the air. I could feel the plush blanket, still crumpled in my hands. The weight of the blue helmet tilted my head back slightly. I could see the azure sky, no clouds in view. The towering trees whirled around me, the shades of green bleeding together into one.

My thoughts are interrupted by a sharp pain in my ankle as I hit the ground, followed by the deafening sound of my helmet smacking against the pavement. All I could see was the blurry outline of grass a few yards away, and the trees bending in the distance. When my mind caught up with my body, I recognized the throbbing pain in my ankle. I hugged my knees to my chest and closed my eyes. Even in the dark, my head was still spinning. The cool concrete felt good, so I lied there a few minutes, just watching the trees.

“Get up,” the voice in my head said. I sat up slowly, resting back on my hands. My ankle looked, deformed, hanging limply inwards. I  fumbled with the buckle as I removed my helmet and set it next to me. I switched my weight back to my good leg and hoisted myself up. I hobbled towards the door, holding onto deck chairs for balance. My ankle dragged along behind me. I made my way through the house to the kitchen to grab an ice pack, then settled onto the couch. I rested my ankle up on the ottoman, with the ice pack on top. I sighed a breath of relief and sunk into the couch, running my hands over the velvet. I grabbed the remote and turned on Netflix, until my dad got home to take me to the doctors, all that I could do was scroll through the listings. 
For the next three weeks, I paid the price by sitting on the sidelines during tennis practice. In the moment when I realized that I could get hurt jumping off a roof, I convinced myself otherwise from something I saw on television, the place where special effects run wild. Safety is a priority and is now valued into all of my actions. Common sense greatly affects the choices I make as well. I am not invincible, I now know that skydiving off roofs is a bad idea, but thinking before you act is much more clever than the story I have to tell.