He looks back at me, pain in his voice as he speaks about standing on the edge of the bridge.
About walking into the street.
Feeling useless.
His life felt like an empty void of disappointment.
We are two broken souls, pulling each other deeper into a pit that neither of us will survive.
Fake smiles, hidden tears, hidden scars....self given or otherwise.
He's sick.
Sick of confusing confrontations.
Cooperating with people who couldn't care less.
Trying to be fearless when he's afraid of the thoughts in his head.
Thoughts make him feel worthless, like jumping off that bridge. Like walking unto that street.
I grab his arm and pull him back unto the sidewalk.
He's still frustrated...not with me, but with the situation.
He says he's okay and we keep walking.
I try to cheer him with delightful distractions about as fake as the smile on my face.
I was upset.
Setting myself up for failure with no sense of anywhere other than messing up.
Trying to help me up, tumbling over each other like baking ingredients mixed in a blender.
He tried to be helpful but only kept falling off bridges and taking me with him.
My smiles are like the flash of a camera.
Quick and bright, only to mask the mediocre image.
I'm always upset with myself...who I somehow blamed for this situation.
For everything.
I wish all the best for you my darling.
Don't let those bridges be an option for your jumping.
Let those bridges be a method for your crossing.
Into a world where thoughts like that fail to exist.
Bridges are bending so while you are breaking just try to think clearly.
Stars like you always ascend into something beautiful.
Quit defending yourself as though your disease defines your destiny.
You define yourself, and you my dear, will make it across.
