jumping in the water


I was going to jump.

I’d weighed the options. I wasn’t about to go out and buy a gun, and I’d developed enough of a tolerance that I couldn’t be certain pills would work. Plus I’d always had an aversion to hanging and I’m too much of a coward to slit my wrists.

So I was going to jump.

I’d settled on the common idea that if one, just one person smiled at me on the way I’d turn around and try to get help. If anything, I suppose it was the last little part of me that held some semblance of hope for the future. Naturally, I received no smiles the entire way to the bridge.

So I was going to jump.

As I peered into the waters below, though, I saw a face. Not a fish, and not quite human either. But a face nonetheless. A face that stared back at me with an unusual smile. A smile that, far from the kind I’d imagined I’d see from any passerby, held a sort of joyous contempt.

See, I was going to jump.

But something about that smile wound up saving my life. Because it seemed to suggest, “go ahead, I can’t wait to meet you.”

Monday 8:27am
I woke up with you on my mind.
You called me babe last night —
my heart is still pounding.

Tuesday 10:53pm
Today I realized we won’t work.
What we are is hurting her.
And I think she matters more to me than you do.

Wednesday 11:52pm
I broke things off with you today.
She barely said a word.
I’ve never regretted anything more than this.

Thursday 4:03pm
I shouldn’t have sent that message.
You shouldn’t have been so okay with receiving it.

Friday 9:57pm
I almost messaged you today.
I didn’t.

Saturday 8:49pm
I’m walking around town in search of alcohol.
They say that liquor numbs the pain of having a broken heart.
I want to put that to the test.

Sunday 2:32am
I heard you texted a girl you’ve never spoken to before.
I wonder if it’s because you’re trying to replace me.
I can’t help but wish you weren’t.
I thought I was irreplaceable.

—  a week with you on my mind, c.j.n.
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Oh look awesom-AAAAAAA

Move on, leave, run away, escape this place… but don’t forget about me, about us, about this town. Always remember where you come from so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.
—  c.j.n.