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            I jumped off a bridge.

            No slashed wrists with a razor I called my friend, not a bottle of pills to go hand and hand with whiskey. I didn't even want to consider what swallowing bleach would do to my insides. Instead of even thinking, I just did it.

            I didn't write any letters, didn't plan on saying goodbye. I went for a walk one day and in the midst of it, and wondered what would happen if I didn't come back. When I saw the bridge – pretty and tall, I leaned over, smelled the misty air. Then I pulled my black fleece sleeves up to my fingertips, climbed over the railing. I stood staring down, holding on.

            Then I fell.