The sunset reflected on the water and I stared at the dark ripples of the wave and thought about how much I was like that reflection. I seem to be beautiful and wild and indigenous, but if you look closely at how I reflect into the world, their are ripples of emotion that drown out the 'image' of me and is replaced with the dark me, the true me, that doesn't smile and doesn't sleep at night and can't wait for the sun to set and the reflection to be put to rest.

I can feel the darkness slipping under my skin again. And I almost feel drained. I did everything I could. Everything to stay good. To stay okay. Everything and it wasn't enough. What if it's never enough.

Why can't we all just get along? Life would be easier if everyone you saw could make you smile. I just don't understand why people don't like other people, just because they are them... Why do they have to hate instead of encouraging and loving? Why does everything have to be so fricking hard when it could be easy... Humans as a whole don't appreciate anything. We trash our lands, we mistreat animals, we hurt our own kind, we hurt people who don't look the same JUST because they don't look the same... It's sooo ridiculous. I don't understand it. And if someone isn't the perfect "model type" we want to put them down and take away their worth. THEY ARE WORTH SO MUCH! We can't even respect ourselves enough to love everyone... And why? Because we feel bad about ourselves we have to make others feel worse? The concept of "misery loves company" is embedded in humans today, and it shouldn't be. We should all be soooo happy that when people look at us they become happy as well. Just imagine if everyone was happy in the world. The less fortunate as well as the extremely wealthy... When I close my eyes I try so hard to dream of a better life, a better world. And when I open them again, it's the memory of that dream that keeps me going. It just makes me so, so, eminently sad that not a lot of people dream that dream.

I knew the story of the quote, "they belong to The Bridge," before I stepped onto its slippery *****. Onlt the brave people spoke of it, and even they said it's name as if it were a curse. The Bridge was there for as long as people could remember, some remember it more than others. I stepped onto The Bridge to endure its wrath. I couldn't see because it was dark around me, the towns folk who weren't scared to go into details whispered stories of how the outside vision is a representation of the inside quietus. The Bridge was a short cut over the vast oceans. I began to slowly move forward. Because slow is the only way to move on The Bridge. I'd heard shuddering stories of The Bridge and how it'd torn families apart and yet it didn't stop me from reaching the path. As I moved on I remembered all the stories of the people who weren't brave enough to finish walking The Bridge and jumped off the sides into the raging waters, some found their way back while others weren't capable. And as I take my final footfall before I step off of The Bridge I can't stop myself from thinking, am I being brave or scared?

"The problem with suicide is that when it becomes an option in your mind, it's always an option."

She wished that maybe one day she wouldn't be a failure anymore but she knew that wishes and dreams were for the good people in life, and that's why hers never came true.

You told me a story about a fantasy land. You told me that the fantasy land had unique people who drunk away their sorrows all day and wrote art all night. You told me about how each day the people of the fantasy land bones would creak and they would laugh until it didn't hurt any longer. You whispered in my ear a promise that one day, when we were hurting enough, we'd visit the fantasy land of the blissfully forgotten. I sit here staring out at the water that never ripples and think of how somehow I made it to the land of drunken unicorns and decaying bones and forgotten souls and you didn't. And then I understood, I'm here because you forgot me, and you're not because I cannot forget you.