When I was 15, I jumped off a bridge.

When I was 15, I jumped off a bridge.

I knew I would be safe.

I could feel the harness around my ankles designed to keep me from hitting the water.

I knew I would be safe. I still struggled to overcome my body.

My every brain cell screaming not to jump.

I wanted to jump.

I had paid money to jump.

I was here explicitly to jump.

My body was paralysed.

Frozen, balanced on the edge.













Cars drove over that bridge.

Locals know the area.

They slowed their cars.

Down came the windows.

A laugh

“Don’t jump, the rope will snap, you’ll die”













I think back to that bridge as an adult.

I jumped when I was 15.

I wanted to jump.

I was scared of death.













I jumped regardless.

I overcame the paralysing fear of death

I did what I went up to that bridge to do













As an adult I remember rushing towards the earth

I remember feeling weightless

I remember it being over in an instant

I remember it being over before I even had time to process it

I remember the calm.













I remember the world fading away

I remember weighing nothing

I remember a feeling of freedom

I remember wishing I could feel that the rest of my life

I remember wishing that would be the last thing I felt













I think about jumping off a bridge when I was 15 a lot.