The Bridge

Brain Log [9]

My doctor gave me sleeping pills which I'd usually hold under my tongue and spit them out when my father left the room. Everyone in the family had grown exhausted trying to help me, I even ghosted my only friend Ivan. The last time he visited me, he expressed his guilt for not convincing me well enough to get in his car that night. I couldn't be mad at him for the choice I made. I was only mad at him for not visiting me at the hospital but I decided not to tell him that. After he left I don't know where I threw my new phone but I haven't seen it since. If it was around, it was probably dead.

When the light in my father's room went dark I slipped out of the house silently, walking to the place where it all began— the bridge. The whole walk from the back of my building to the bridge wasn't pleasant, it was pitch black with flickering street lights. I felt watched, followed. I didn't dare to look back or turn back running to the the building of my apartment. Surprisingly, when I finally arrived I was greeted with nothing. The bridge looked alright. More grasses had grown around it but it appeared to be closed with caution tape on both sides, the small river was blocked by the tall grasses. The bridge was done for.

I was looking at it the wrong way.