⚠️ Content Warning
This story deals with emotional trauma and suicide attempts without depicting them explicitly or idealizing them. These themes are handled with sensitivity and without glorification; the narrative purpose is to show their consequences, not to promote them.Sensitive readers are advised to proceed with caution.
If at any moment you relate to the protagonist's thoughts or are going through something similar, please seek support as soon as possible: talk to someone you trust or reach out to a professional. You are not alone.
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The car stopped at the edge of the bridge.I didn't even bother closing the door when I stepped out.I'm supposed to keep driving home, but I've been thinking about this place for so long that it feels carved into my skin.Or maybe I'm the one who has dragged myself here, as if it were the last fragment of a withered hope.
The wind blows cold, tossing my hair and making me tremble.Or maybe I was already trembling before.A part of me whispers to go back to the car, to keep going for just one more day…but that voice barely exists now; it's only a faint murmur swallowed by the air.
There's been a blue filter over the world lately.A shade that waits for my happy moments to fall into night, just to remind me that nothing makes sense.I'm just a sack of breathing flesh—laughing, breaking.And everything slips away from me—joy, calm, good moments—like shooting stars too weak to grant a wish.
I sway at the edge, staring at the dark water.It seems to promise a more comforting embrace of oblivion than anything else ever has.Is there anything left worth consoling?Anything left of who I was?My mind is an uninhabitable room.Maybe, in some buried corner, there's a reason to stop…but it's lost under so much noise it can't break through the chaos.
The only thing that soothes me is the mantra vibrating in my chest:
I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm already dead.
And even if I'm not… the idea brings peace.
My body stops shaking.Maybe it has surrendered like everything else.It's the calm after the storm—when nothing is left standing, but at least the destruction is over.
I exhale.Look at the moon reflected in the water,and launch myself toward it.
For an instant, I feel free.I hear nothing but the wild pounding of my heart.
Until I plunge into the moon.
The impact is sharp, brutal—like the world splitting open with me.The water swallows me with violence, dragging me downward with a force that feels pulled from my own sins.My body refuses to yield, but becomes clumsy, heavy, useless.
There is only pain… and then nothing.