I have NO IDEA why this was on my clipboard...
Here is what i need you to do...
Step off the train, bus, or subway at the central hub of your city. You are looking for its heart—the place where streets converge, where neon glows brightest, where the energy is thick in the air. Stop for a moment. Absorb the movement around you: the rush of pedestrians, the scent of food from street vendors, the hum of distant music and car horns. Let yourself feel small in the vastness.
Tilt your head back and scan the skyline. Ignore the familiar structures; seek out the one that disappears into the sky, the one that makes your breath catch. This is where you’re going. If you don’t already know the name, ask a local or search quickly on your phone. Find out how to get there. Walk if you can—experience the shift in the city's pulse as you move closer.
When you arrive, step inside with quiet confidence. If there’s an observation deck, buy a ticket without hesitation. If it’s an office tower, find the public-access floors and take the highest elevator you can. You are not here for hesitation or second-guessing. You are here to climb.
At the highest floor accessible by elevator, stop. Breathe. The climb begins now. Locate the stairwell. If it’s locked, check for another way—some rooftops are meant to be reached. If needed, ask someone who works there if there's an open-air space. Sometimes, persistence finds a way.
Step onto the stairs. Begin your ascent. Feel the rhythm of your breath, the pull in your legs, the steady push upward. With each step, let go of something—an old regret, a lingering doubt, a weight you’ve carried too long. Higher and higher. The city fades behind you, becomes something distant, something beneath you.
When you push open the final door, the wind will hit you first. Let it. Step onto the rooftop, walk to the edge (safely, of course), and look out. The city is no longer a maze—you see it now as a whole, a living thing that stretches beyond you.
Close your eyes. Feel the altitude in your chest, the distance between you and the streets below. Take the deepest breath you’ve taken in years. Hold it. Then exhale, slowly. This is what you came for. Not the view, not the height—the perspective.
Standing here, above everything that once felt overwhelming, you may realize something: You can kindly fuck all the way off
