The day was Thursday. That was the day I decided to be my death day. I was beginning to walk down the streets to the G.W.Bridge. My plan was to jump into the frigid November waters. It was difficult enough maneuvering through parade traffic with my thoughts whirling around in my head. I was thinking of everything until I accidentally bumped into a young girl. "My apologies ma'am." I said embarrassed at my clumsiness. But the little girl just said nothing and ran in the opposite direction. That little scene bummed me out a little bit more. So I continued walking my final walk. When I finally reached the bridge I noticed I had something in my hand.
Opening my fist I discovered a small piece of folded paper. Most have been from the girl I thought. Curious I unfolded the paper and began to read it. As I read what was written tears began to slowly sweep down my face by the end I was crying from happiness. At the very end of the letter the author asked for this note to be recycled by giving it to someone who needs it. I remember folding that paper back up and putting it in my pocket.
As I walked back from where I came from I observed a poor beggar on a street corner holding a tin cup asking for change. The old beggar had a look of exhaustion to him. I knew exactly what to do when I came up to him I simply smiled and put the letter in his cup.
Now I think of that day often a part of me hoping that the note was passed on. A part of me hoping that the little note will go around the whole world. Saving more lives and helping those who need its words.
