Before I met you, I was standing on a bridge.
Most of the time, my eyes were closed. I wasn't really thinking – just letting the images glide through my throbbing headache, allowing the wind to carry them far away. I was yearning for some kind of relief. Any kind. Of all the things I've already tried; drugs, smoking, alcohol, sex; the cold wind seemed to be the most succesful in bringing peace to my sore mind.
Before I met you, I was scared. Scared I'd lose the last thing I had left – my dignity. Scared that if I don't take one more step, I'll be trapped on that bridge forever. Scared that if I take it, I'll fade away and there won't be a single spark left of me. Scared I simply couldn't move, speak, breathe, scared that I was decaying.
Before I met you, the sky was grey. I sat down on the ground and stared at the plastic pieces in front of me that used to be my phone. There was a perfect chill in the air, recreating the space around me. My hair was sticky from the sweat and my hands were too cold to touch my own skin.
That was when I met you.