I Was Afraid to Fly

I never really thought that I would die this way. I always thought that I would die an old man, perhaps in my sleep. I never thought in a million years that at eighteen years old I would already be spent with life. I never saw myself standing on the overpass, watching the rush hour traffic cut through the winter night, watching the spray from the wheels, watching the end of my life slowly tick down. For some reason, I didn’t feel any nerves. I just felt resigned. This was the end of the road, and although it had come quicker than I imagined it would, I never really once thought about the sadness of it all. In my eyes, there was nothing left for me. I had no ambition, I was failing at school, and I was just going to end up another nine-to-five zombie. My parents seemed the think that this would be some sort of success, but the secret was that I was terrified of turning out like them. Their lives bored me, and my own life bored me. There had to be another life out there, something worth living. This one certainly wasn’t. It was just an endless stream of awkwardness and failure.

I sighed, shivering slightly as the cold raindrops trickled down the back of my neck and under my clothing. I hadn’t really dressed for the weather, as I didn’t see much point. After all, I was about to hurl myself off of a bridge into oncoming traffic. When I was found, I don’t think it would matter what I was wearing, seems I didn’t really imagine that there would be much left of me. It was strange, how calm I felt. In a few short minutes, it would all be over. I would never have to feel useless or worthless or pathetic ever again.

I placed my hands on the low wall that ran alongside the sidewalk. It was strange, the way that there wasn’t more protection up here. Anyone could hurl themselves off of it, and there would be nothing at all to stop them. I was about to hoist myself into a sitting position, legs dangling over the other side, when the light of headlights swept up the road behind me, and I instantly adopted a more innocent pose. I didn’t want anyone guessing what I was planning to do. I didn’t want to be stopped. This was my time to go, I was certain of it.

To my annoyance, I heard the engine cut out behind me, and someone got out of the car. Squeezing my eyes shut, I cursed under my breath. I really didn’t need any good Samaritans right now.

Someone approached me on my right side, and I knew they were leaning against the bridge in the same way I was. For a short while, there was nothing but the wet roar of the cars below us.

"It’s a strange night to be car watching, isn’t it?" the person suddenly asked, and I was surprised to hear it was a female voice. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She was strikingly pretty, despite the rain dampening her blonde hair. She didn’t seem to mind. She looked at me, noticing I was watching her. She had blue eyes. There was a sparkle in them that had long since gone from mine.

"Each to their own," I replied quietly.

"I’m Robyn," she smiled. Robyn. A bird. Freedom.

"Jay," I replied gruffly, looking back down to the traffic below. I was possessed by the urge to just throw myself over before she had a chance to explain why she’d stopped, but for some reason her presence was stopped me from doing so.

"Like Jason or Jaden? Or just Jay?"

"Just Jay."

"That’s pretty cool," Robyn said. There was a strange bounce to her voice, and she just seemed to be full of energy. I was slightly jealous, wondering why some people seemed to just be so upbeat all the time while people like me were stuck feeling – and being – totally worthless.

"I guess?" I asked, wondering when she was just going to come clean about why she had decided to stop and get out of her warm car on a cold, rainy, winter’s night. Finally, she did.

"There’s always something to live for, Jay," she said bluntly. "Even when it doesn’t seem that way."

"What makes you think I think otherwise?" I asked her coolly. "I could just be watching traffic."

Robyn glanced at me and gave a soft snort of laughter.

"Come on, Jay," she said. "I’m not stupid. I can tell by your whole body language, and let me tell you, you’re not going that easily."

"What would you know about me anyway?" I demanded, beginning to grow angry. "This is a personal choice. What if I just want to die?"

"Nobody just wants to die," Robyn said calmly. "There’s always a reason. So, that’s the question, isn’t it? What’s your reason, Jay?"

"I’m bored with life," I stated bluntly, shrugging. "That’s all. This isn’t one of those normal suicides. You know, where your girlfriend leaves you, or you’re depressed, or you mess up and can’t live with it. This is just a simple boredom thing. I think there’s more out there."

"I don’t believe you," Robyn shrugged. "There’s got to be a further reason."

"There’s not."

"What would make you want to live?" she asked, and I looked at her properly. She was watching me with wide blue eyes, her hair soaking by now, but she didn’t seem to notice the rain or the cold, which was strange as she was only in a top with no jacket.

"What would make me want to live?" I repeated, and although I didn’t want to, I was chewing the question over in my head. "I guess I don’t know. If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here, would I?"

"How do you do at school?" Robyn asked, and even though I thought she was overly forward, I found myself answering her question.

"Not very well," I said. "I mean, I’m not stupid. I just can’t be bothered. I don’t have the motivation."

"I guess that makes you get bad grades? Your parents wouldn’t be very happy."

"I do. And no, they’re not," I replied, frowning. She was good at this: tip-toeing around a point in such a way as to buy time and keep my interest.

"So is it really that you’re simply bored? Or is it more to do with the fact you feel that you’re just destined to fail? Are you just bored, or are you scared?"

Robyn’s tone wasn’t mocking. Rather, it was one of understanding. I didn’t know how exactly I knew this, but I sensed a deeper understanding in her voice. Deeper than the understanding of my therapists or school councillors. Suddenly, it hit me, and I looked her in the eyes. To my shock, they were glistening with tears, and I knew that even though she didn’t know me, she was crying for me.

"Scared of what, exactly?" I asked cautiously.

"Scared of failing. You’re so scared of failing school, so you don’t try. Now, you’re so scared of failing at life that you don’t even want to try. You’re so terrified that you’re going to let down and disappoint everyone you love, that you’ve decided they would be better off without you. You’re not going to give yourself the chance to disappoint them, but the thing that you don’t realize is, no matter what you do, you’ll always be appreciated for who you are, not for who they want you to be."

"I’ll never do the right thing," I sighed. "They’re always annoyed at me for something I haven’t done, or something I have done but done wrong."

"Parents can be like that,” Robyn said. “I was in your position a year or so ago, Jay. I know exactly what you’re feeling. But you can’t be scared to live. That’s the biggest failure."

"How can you live when you don’t even know who you are?" I asked.

"Life isn’t about finding yourself," Robyn said simply. "It’s about making yourself."

Her words echoed through my head long after she had spoken them.

"What do you really want to do with your life?" Robyn followed up. "If you could do anything, what would it be?"

I thought for a minute.

I always wanted to travel," I eventually confessed. "You know, just pack up a bag, throw it in the car, and set off. Just go wherever I feel."

Robyn smiled.

"That’s ambition," she said. "What’s stopping you?"

"Money," was my simple reply.

"And there’s your starting point," Robyn finished, and her tone was triumphant. "You can be what you want to be, Jay."

That night, we stayed on that bridge for hours. By the time she did leave, I knew she wasn’t worried about me taking my own life. For some unknown reason, her words had finally gotten through to me what had been trying to get through for years. I stood there for the rest of the night, barely feeling the cold. The tiny flame of hope, or excitement, or perhaps happiness that was burning inside me was keeping me warm, and I understood now why Robyn hadn’t felt the bad weather. When the sun rose on the new day, I couldn’t imagine that I would have been dead by now. I looked down to the road below me, which was filling up with the commuters. Instead of the road being closed while police cleaned up the mess I would have made, the traffic was flowing smoothly. Life was moving forward, and for the first time in a long while, I felt as though I were moving with it.

It took me a long time to realize that there was no blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl named Robyn in my school. I never did spot her again for ages. Sometimes, I wondered if she had even been there at all. But every so often, when I have a bad day, when fear or sadness takes me over, I’ll catch a flash of blonde hair, and I’ll remember the words that changed my life.

Life isn’t about finding yourself. It’s about making yourself.