The Bridge

As soon as I saw the man on the bridge, I knew I wasn’t dreaming.  He was dripping wet, yet his hair was standing on end.  I wasn’t sure how he had gotten to where he was without leaving behind any footprints, but I blinked a few times to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.  I had had problems seeing things recently due to the new medication I was on, but mostly I was seeing things in the dark.  There were shadows where there shouldn’t have been and craters where I knew the ground should be flat. 

But this man was real.  He was there.  And I was sure there was something happening.  Nobody stood on the edge of a bridge with a good reason in mind.  I inched closer to the man, trying not to scare him and make him fall unnecessarily, but the closer I got, the fuzzier he seemed to get.  It was like with each step closer to the man, he was becoming less clear.  Less stable.  More misty.  What was going on?  Was I losing my mind?  Was I going blind?  Why did this strange man keep going in and out of focus? 

It wasn’t until I was right behind him that I realized what was going on. He was real, but at the same time, he wasn’t real. He was only real to me because he was the only one who had ever broken my heart. The only one who hurt me when all I wanted him to do was love me. Justin was the only one I ever missed and the only one I had ever killed. 


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