TW: Suicidal Ideation.
***
It's 3:22 a.m and the air is too fucking quiet. i'm walking, hands in my pocket, back home, because i'm too tired. not physically. i'm wide awake and exhausted of my heart.
i had just spent the last 5 hours in crowds, with friends, beneath flashing lights, submerged in music and smoke - but still, all by myself.
it's nights like these that i contemplate my life and when to end it.
i do this at least 15 times a month.
it's dark, and cold. and maybe a bit scary. there are barely any cars. the fast food line is filled with rowdy, drunk people. thank fuck i'm not one of them.
it's 3:30 a.m and i get to the same fucking bridge. do i want to? am i insane? i'm always fed up.
there are no cars. the traffic lights swop colors for themselves.
they swop colors for me.
there's a hole in the side of the bridge covered by some wire i can wedge my foot it. my foot fits. i know this, i've been here before.
green.
you can hold on to it with your toes wedged in without falling. it's never windy when i try. i might be afraid of heights. or maybe i'm anticipating my final breath.
orange.
i lean over. it's still quiet. too quiet. 3 cars pass. my thoughts pass. 3 minutes pass. maybe my monthly exercise routine is leaning over a sullen grey bridge at ungodly hours of the morning.
maybe if traffic lights only had 2 colors, i'd feel better.
red.
you don't jump on red.
or maybe you do. to match the aesthetic of your smashed, bloody body that will be found on the road at the bottom.
or, you don't jump on red because you're not supposed to jump.
it's still fucking quiet.
it's still just me and my deep desire to die.
it's still my mind at 900km/h with no tears but a severe need to stop.
it's still the quiet air and the pain of life and every little thing tapping my back telling me that if there is any road i should move forward on, it's over this bridge.
green.
do i go?
do i fall and flail and finally escape this misery?
do i take this exit?
.
my heart is racing and my mind is spinning and i want to scream and cry and bang my fists on a surface and tear up the world and wail in agony until i'm blue.
it's 3:44 a.m and i unwedge myself and drag my pained existence home.
if you think i don't jump because “people care” and “i don't really want to die”, you're wrong.
i don't jump because in that silence, i realize just how much i'm ready to go.
i'm just waiting for someone to care.
