mountains aren't cliche

I am a mountain climber. I was a mountain climber. I climbed my way through the hardships and the despair. I isolated my self – went my own way – to satisfy everyone else; to become the person they wanted me to become; to become the person I had always envied and desired to emulate. With every step, I might have thought I was getting stronger, but in essence, I was deteriorating and every cell in my body was breaking into pieces. I had on a big, warm jacket which I had believed in to protect me…and it did…for a while. Soon, though, I could feel the hail pressing down on my withering body; I could feel the wind slapping me across my face almost like a premonition; like some sort of limited guidance. I ignored it all, and did what I hoped was right. Stupid me. I finally reached the pinnacle, but instead of feeling jubilance or satisfaction, I just wanted to jump off. To be gone forever.