Short Story Three- Bridge
No car was stopping to check on him. After all, he was a man at the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge. The place was a legend for that kind of activity. But what did he care anymore? In less than 5 minutes, his body would hit the water below. He always wondered about what would happen quicker: would the impact knock him out and therefore drown him? Or would the cold water send him into a state of shock, ending in the same result? He could've done some research about it, sure. But all it seemed was a waste of effort, considering what he had planned to do. Confess his feelings to the girl he instantly fell for, making sure his friends knew that they were the best friends he could ask for. His parents didn't even count on the loose ends he wanted to tie. Most of the reasons he was where he was were because of them. Just bringing a child into the world didn't mean you were suited to be a parent, and he made sure to let them know.
Not directly, of course. He was more than compelled by the innate thought that you should respect your parents. In his green eyes, it was a notion either implied by the parents or the children with good parents. He had many dark thoughts regarding his parents, people that wronged his friends, or just… people in general. Filled with a mix of both frustration and suppressed anger, all he saw fit was to end it all. The easy way out, as some said. But if that easy way was so bad, then why did so many people do it? It wasn't some sort of peer pressure, just a counter-argument when jokingly getting into arguments with his friends regarding that specific subject. They didn't take it lightly, but he did. Before, the thought of ending it all abruptly wouldn't even cross his mind. But moving to college opened his mind in ways that he didn't even think possible. No one he could trust, the duty of taking care of a new household, all that. Not even counting the classes, that is. It had been eight weeks since college started, and he didn't attend two full weeks. When asked why, he'd always blame it on laziness, that he didn't feel like it, and that sleep was better. Ultimately, he wasn't sure who he was lying to, his friends or himself.
He had many reasons to keep on living, as the small number of people he told about his thoughts pointed out. But was it really worth it? Was it worth the time, the effort, and the energy, just to get hurt eventually? It wasn't. No matter what anyone said, waiting for things to get better just wasn't his style of things. What was he supposed to do until then, eh? Just wait and feel completely apathetic, as if his skin was shielding the world from a deep void? He had ignored that feeling for way too much time. That said, in that specific moment, watching the water below and the moon reflecting into it and into his eyes, he cursed himself for not mustering the courage to do something sooner. This whole nightmare of a life could have been done way sooner. But he still had a small hope, or so he thought. A new person in his life that made him actually feel something, that was a start and he'd continue to track and hang onto that feeling for as much as he could. But he had his limits, and they had been reached. He made a promise to that person, and he hated to break it. But, as he read on Instagram in one of those bullshit wisdom posts, never make a decision when you're feeling strong emotions. Especially after a long period of numbness, he could add. He regretted it all now, coming to college. Because these were good people that he'd be leaving behind.
He had thought many times about them, friends, lovers, or whatever family he actually cared about. His sisters, that was. He'd be leaving them all behind, living a shitty life that could very well turn out to be even shittier than what he would have escaped. But he chose to be selfish, that time. After caring too much for the wrong people, making the wrong choices, and then dealing with the consequences in a stoic, ruthless manner, he came to find out that each second was plagued with constant pain. Pain that came from fear, mostly. He was afraid. But that didn't stop him from having a death wish that would never be fulfilled except by himself. Whenever he looked for trouble, trouble avoided him. But when he finally wanted to invite some peace into his life, what came was a disguised sense of calm, the true face of that feeling being despair and loneliness. Whatever he did, it followed him as if it was his personal sentence for something that he didn't do.
Or maybe he did something and he deserved it. Didn't matter at this point. The gate to escape was right below him, all he had to do now was make the trust fall, quite literally. Not only that, but his wild thirst for the knowledge of the consequences after death would finally be satisfied. That was as much of a consolation as anything, whatever consolation he needed. Lost in his own thoughts again, he realized all he was doing was waste time. Maybe gathering time for losing courage, held back by the collective hope of the people who tried to change his mind. Too late, though. It was a choice he made by himself and he'd made up his mind already. Helped by the wind blowing into his back, he leaned forward, letting gravity do what it did best: bring him down.
In what he considered to be his last moments of consciousness, he felt his eyes tear up. Unsure of whether the tears were because of the wind hitting his eyes or finally feeling the relief being so close, he just opened his mouth and smiled, seeing his own reflection in the water. But he felt nothing other than being surrounded from all sides of cool liquid that he wished would bring his death. He was cold, wet, and as he emerged to the surface, with his eyes fully tearing up worse than before, realizing he was crying. His face was soaked, but he could tell the distinction. Lastly, his tears came faster and stronger when he realized that his worst fear had become true.
He lived.