My Life

The Girl On The Ledge

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I usually write an introduction for posts like this, but I feel like this one says it all, so…see ya’!

*shrugs and runs away*

 


 

The Girl On The Ledge

*******

I met the girl on the ledge one day.

She cried and cried as she said, “I need you to want me. I cannot stay if you do not want me.”

I said, “I thought wanting was bad, and so I didn’t want you.”

Later, we sat together on the bridge, huddled close in the cold night air.

I asked her as we looked up at the stars, “Why do you keep coming back?”

She didn’t have an answer.

And so I ask again, “Why are you here?”

“When I was little, I was fun,” she begins. “That’s what my mom said. ‘So much fun.’ I just keep wondering when that went away. When did I stop having fun and start wanting to escape?

“I thought it was recent, but then I remembered how I would threaten to run away as a kid. It was always because I thought I wasn’t wanted.

“There was this one time I was dancing around my room—I think my mom was blasting Madonna in the living room. My brother walked in and laughed at me for dancing. He just thought it was funny, but I was mortified. And so I believed that dancing wasn’t safe anymore, and I stopped.

“Then somehow I came to believe that my thighs were too fat, that my stomach should be flat, that my face was too chubby. I believed it and I became so ashamed. Just one more part of myself to hide away.

“I’ve always had an active imagination. As I got older, I began to imagine new things. But that was bad bad bad bad bad, so I shut myself off. No more wanting.

“Somewhere along the way, things turned red. A downpour of blood filling my nostrils, suffocating me, choking me, silencing me. That’s when I learned never to say a word, to always be okay, no matter how much it hurts. I told myself that’s what I had to do, because I didn’t want anyone worrying about me.

“I had this closet in my room at my old house. I used to hide in there when I was sad or upset. It’s been about five years since we moved, but I still feel like I’ve been hiding away in that tiny, dark space.

“Things have just kept getting darker on the inside. Closing in, telling me I’ll never see the sun again, not for real. I’ve seen glimpses.

“And all the while, everyone thinks I’m okay. Everyone thinks I know what I want, that they know what I want. They see all this goodness in me, when all I see is a prison cell.

“I don’t want to go, but I don’t know how to stay, not when it hurts this bad. So I come here. I climb up on the ledge. I stare down at the darkness of the water, and I wonder.

“I wonder if I will ever be grateful for this breath in my lungs—I’m trying so hard to be. I wonder if I will ever feel fully alive, not just a shell of a being.

“He told me all I had to do was stay and not go, but the world seems to be asking for so much more.

“I know you worry about me, because I keep coming back. I worry, too. But here you are. Sitting with me, listening. And if I climbed up on that ledge again right now, you would talk me back down.

“There’s a whole lot of things I would like to have. But for now, this is all I’m asking for. For you to simply be with me.”

So here I sit, on the bridge with the most beautiful girl. So here I will stay, because that is all she has ever wanted.


 

If you are struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, here is a list of mental health hotlines.

And please, now matter how much it hurts,  just stay and don’t go. ❤

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