Seven twenty-seven am.

I am sitting, legs crossed, hanging off a bridge. A wooden one.
Yes, a wooden bridge. Suspended higher than one would think.

My hands are shaking. Why?
Why do you think? This is a bridge, you idiot.

To jump or not to jump.
The age old question.
Weather to finally conquer, to finally destroy, to obliterate my fears,
Or to simply walk away as I have many times before.

Jump.
Whispers the voice in my head.
Jump.

But then it begins again.
Consequences. Fear.
My fear speaks to me in consequences. Weighs the consequences, running through every possible outcome where things could go wrong. It rises, louder and louder until my head is screaming, pounding like a two year old throwing a tantrum, against my skull.

But today was different.

“Enough!” I scream aloud.
The pounding ceases and suddenly its just me and the threatening water below.

Jump.

Legs shaking in fear, I stand up and step foreword onto the edge and watch the dust of the old bridge fall below as I will.
I bend my knees. Then spring high on my tiptoes.

I jump.


The cold water hits me like a brick wall as I slam into it. Wets my clothes, my hair, my face.
But I don't care.
Because I finally, actually, fully and completely jumped off this stupid bridge.

But it was more than that.
Today, I jumped off my fears.