Put on a Brave Face

Last thoughts on the Orange Bridge.

A light drizzle plays with the gust, allowing itself to be seduced by the subtle motion of the breeze. Every eddie influenced the rain in such minute manner. A sleeveless hoodie and jeans hold excellently against this weather but I don't want to wait for a soaking reason to regret my wardrobe choice.

The Orange Bridge has seen two fatalities, three if I don't flake. I know how far apart the bridge is from the water and it's a long way down, enough to kill a man. Midnight feels like the best time to jump since I can't see how far I'll have to fall before I hit the water.

Here, teetering on the brink before the jump, isn't the time for the flashback; but I can't help it. Recently, my girlfriend left me because she's gay. I never take a break-up easily and the accumulation of 4 months of break-ups pushed me to the edge, literally and figuratively.

First, September found me with Linda, the cheater. After the matter, no one offered any comfort; I had been warned of her nefarious lust beforehand. Linda led me into finding perhaps the best relationship of my life (this all depends on whether or not I finally jump).

Frankie had been the October girl. Between us flourished a romance anyone would die for (or because of). Still, I reeled from Linda's treachery, felt insulted and demasculated.

I needed to reclaim myself.

Frankie had been the girl which gave meaning to the lyric: "In love with my best friend." Simply put, she filled the hole Linda had occupied. The evil woman, though, also took away my pride. Stupidly and foolishly, I went about recovering it.

I cheated on innocent Frankie with the November girl, Natalie King. Frankie saw us together one day and soon thereafter split from her lousy, limp-dick boyfriend, A.K.A. me. It sincerely hurt to see her go but I had found a sexy, lustful tomboy to replace her. This ultimately led to another vacancy inside me and this one told me to leave Natalie and seek forgiveness. I cut ties with Natalie; she's a constant reminder of my infidelity.

This month, December, I met Patricia Tracy. I had converted every need inside me into one singularity and forced Patricia into a convoluted, repulsive relationship. Love had become a mixture of sexual frustration, lack of self esteem, paranoia. The first impacted Patty emotionally because some perverted babysitter molested her. My own lack of self esteem had me writing suicide notes as cries for attention. I liked to see her become worried for my safety.

In my twisted conscience, I fantasized her reaction to my death. Also, the infidelity I experienced and participated in made me paranoid about future outbreaks. What if she cheats or what if I do or what if she finds out about me, these questions bounce ceaselessly in my head. I don't know what inspired her to come out of the closet; and I hate it when something out of my control happens and I don't even know why it did. Patricia fled to her friend Sora's place after she broke up with me.

These women chronicled my fall and winter. The cigarette burned to the filter, leaving a slight singe on my lips. I spit it out and watch the ember float in the gust, dance with it then disappear. I put a new cigarette in my mouth, this one I won't light. I let go of the railing, giving myself to gravity.

Maybe I'll float like the ember.

I land with a thud immediately. It was all in my head, just a dream.

Author's Note

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