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bridge to your tears

This one's dedicated to,

Caroline


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This story contains scenes that may be triggering for some readers.

Read at your own risk.


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I have great news to tell, Jimin.

I've finally found my answer to your question.

All my life, I've always felt as though there was something missing in my life; a tiny, empty space I never knew what for, at least, until I met you.

I can still remember that day so vividly as if it merely happened yesterday. I was at the bridge of Canyon Sainte-Anne of Québec, the sun was almost setting and the clouds in the sky were pink and alive. And though I thought the sky screamed at me, telling me not to do it not let everything go I still felt all alone.

I remember hating myself so much, to the point that I simply didn't want to exist anymore. I tried telling my parents how I felt, but they told me it was just a "phase". I never had many friends, so I couldn't talk to anyone about it. I couldn't remember the last time I smiled sincerely anymore, nor the last time I laughed with all my heart. I truly wanted to just tear myself apart. After all, if I continued feeling nothing, would I have still been considered a living thing?

And so I ran to that bridge which anyone rarely even crossed in the middle of the night. It was my favourite hiding place, where I spent most of my time when my parents were fighting, when I had a rough time at school or when I just felt like drowning myself in the silence.

Whenever I was on that bridge, I felt like being alone wasn't so bad. After all, there was no one to tell me to try and pretend to be someone else. Somehow, I found contentment in my own solitude.

But then I saw you there. You were crying with your face in your trembling hands, your arms on your knees as you sat in the biting cold. You didn't look at me. It's as if you hadn't even noticed my presence at all. I wasn't bothered by that fact; however, I felt a strange sense of possession as if the bridge belonged to me and only me. I found it vexing how your presence was a hindrance to my plans. Then I decided I didn't care. It was then or never.

I remember walking closer to the edge of the bridge and attempting to jump over it, but then you shouted and asked me what I was planning to do as if you actually cared. Why would you? When you didn't know me at all? Although now that I think about it, if a man tried to kill himself right in front of me, I would've done the same. Still, I despised you the very moment I heard your voice.

"Don't!" You said. "What on earth are you trying to do?"

"Isn't it obvious yet?" I answered, not daring to look into those eyes I knew would make me hesitate. We both knew what I had planned, what we both came to do. After all, what would you be doing there?

You planned to do the same thing as me.

Maybe it just infuriated you that I had the guts to try and do it first.

After a long string of silence, you finally said, "Yes, but why?"

"I want to die," I simply answered.

"Why?"

"Don't ask me why," I snapped at you, a stranger, trying to save me, "What part of 'I want to die' don't you understand?" I turned around to finally look at you and I really wish I hadn't. I wish I had just ended things then because as soon as our eyes met, I knew I was saved. There were still tears in yours and maybe it was those that had me felt like drowning in them. I turned away.

"Everything," you said. "I don't understand why anyone as beautiful as you would want to die."

"Beauty isn't everything."

"That's true, but—"

"Just let me die already, 'cause I'm done trying!" That was the last straw and I truly planned on jumping right there and then, but you stood up and held me in your arms. In that very moment, I could do nothing but submit to the angel that was you. I haven't believed in miracles for as long as I could remember since I've only ever been acquainted with my demons, no angels to save me, but there you were, making me believe in you.

And I had always hated promises, knowing they're meant nothing but to be broken, but somehow, you made me promise to you I would stay alive.

I remember the days that gone by right after that, we started meeting at the bridge every night. Eventually, you told me your name and I couldn't get it off my mind. If one could fall in love with a word, I know I had.

I remember you telling me why you were crying the first night we met.

"People expect too much from me," you said. "I try to live up to their expectations but I always fail. I'm a failure. I live to disappoint. I can't make anyone proud. I'm humiliating. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be what other people want me to be and it feels like shit because no one really cares if I fall down and cry and try to scream while no voice comes out of my throat. It sucks because I know that they'd probably just be better off without me. I hate myself because I'm so clingy but I really just want someone to care and I know no one ever will and I should stop hoping for that bullshit miracle to happen. I'm sorry, I'm probably annoying you now."

You really weren't and you were the complete opposite of those things you told me, but I didn't tell you that. I don't know why, but I just couldn't.

I remember holding you as you told me more about yourself, as you cried and poured your heart out to me. I let you speak. I listened. And in each word that came out of those bewitching lips of yours, I felt you opening up to me as I felt myself slowly open up to your more and more, too. It's as if everything you said, I believe them true.

But the voices inside my head kept screaming not to let you in.

I've fallen again and I was scared I'll actually drown this time and never be able to save myself.

"I understand," I found myself saying. You looked up at me and moved your head away from my chest. "You're so tired of the same old thing."

You smiled and for once in a very long time, I felt at peace.

Then I said, "You try your very best to keep a smile everyday but it just gets harder and harder to keep this façade."

"But this one isn't," you protested. "I am only me when I'm with you."

I remember being on the verge of crying as you said that.

I remember feeling petrified of the effect you had on me.

I remember feeling afraid of finally being able to feel something.

I remember, a few days after that, you told me you felt the same.

I remember how you told me you loved me, how you couldn't meet my eyes when you said it.

I remember wanting to give myself up for once.

But then you said, "I can't promise you anything, my love, but this moment. All I need to know is you'll be happy even without me by your side when tomorrow comes."

I knew it. I knew you'd leave since everyone does eventually. Why did you tell me you loved me when you were just bound to leave me like everyone else? Why did you have to lie to me?

It's all your fault. It wasn't mine, Jimin. And yet, all your lies were so much better than the ones I'm making up on my mind right now. But really . . . why am I crying when it's my fault you're gone?

Why am I crying when it was me who pushed you off that bridge?

Why am I crying when it was me who was frightened by your love? Frightened to be left all alone? Frightened to fall on my own?

Why? When it was me who was scared you wouldn't stay, so I pushed you away?

Why? When it was me who heard your last cries?

"Why?" you asked, as the gaze of your eyes pierced through mine.

I've never felt so lost and broken for losing someone that was never even mine in the first place. I've never hurt so bad. I've never loved so bad. And now, I don't think I ever will again.

That's why, Jimin. That's why I'm here now, at this bridge. After months of pondering, trying to find another answer to this question I knew so well . . . to the question you asked before I pushed you, I finally know the answer.

"Do you feel the same as well?"

"I'm sorry it took me too long," I say before letting go of myself.

We'll finally be together.

After all, anything is better than this silence.

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