What happens, when you’ve already taken the leap?
On the ledge, something keeps nagging you. I think the determination comes into full force when you’re staring down into the shallow still waters. You know the plunge isn’t going to kill you. Your heart is going to fail you before you make a splash and someone doubts they saw a person jump off the bridge.
But what if that’s not what happens?
You’ve jumped, and terror hits you. You’re mid air and it suddenly strikes you that life wasn’t that cruel after all.
Maybe you would have survived a rape.
Maybe you would have survived an obscene video of you out on the internet.
Maybe you could have survived failing in the exams.
Maybe you could have survived an abusive relationship.
I don’t know what it feels like when you’re letting yourself off. Pushing your feet into the iron railing,not for momentum, but one last call for help- pleading with your own self: don’t jump.
But if you’re midway, and the face the person who’d miss you the most flashes in front of your eyes and a voice that was suffocated beneath the one that urged you on becomes louder- rings like a siren in your head shouting: STOP THIS! GO BACK!, you realise your heart is stronger than you thought it’d be. It doesn’t fail you.
And you wish you could swim.