Literally

I pace back and forth, rubbing my hands against my dark jeans to rid them of sweat. I keep swallowing again and again to rid myself of the lump in my throat. None of it works. The swallowing doesn't clear my throat. The rubbing doesn't dry my hands. The pacing doesn't make me less nervous.

I hate myself for what I'm about to do.

A car comes around the corner and stops on the other side of the road. Gerard steps out, looking gorgeous. I don't know why I expected him not to look gorgeous. He always looks gorgeous. He slams his car door shut and walks across the abandoned road. No one ever comes out here after the bridge closed.

”Hi,” he says happily and pulls me into his arms as soon as I'm within reach. I hug back weakly.
The words I'm about to say is already cutting at my heart. I can feel it beat irregularly. I'm afraid.
”Are you alright?” Gerard asks as soon as he pulls away. He can sense something's off. He always knew me so well.

”No,” I say. I choke on the next word I try to say. I can't breathe for a few seconds. When I catch my breath, it's struggled.

”What's going on?” Gerard asks, placing a cold hand on my chest. His eyes widen and he looks down.
”Your heart isn't beating.”
Softly, I take his hand and move it away from my chest.

”It's because it's up here,” I say and press his hand against my throat, feeling my uneven pulse intensify.
The words that cut my heart before are now cutting at my throat as well. My eyes are on fire, even though nothing but water flows out of them.
I look Gerard in the eye.
”I can't do this anymore,” I whisper. My tongue is bleeding when I close my mouth again; I cut it on those words that needed to be said.

”What?”

”I can't be with you anymore,” I say. My heart must be bleeding more than my tongue, because it starts pounding less and less in my throat.
”I don't deserve you.”
He steps away from me and I feel my heart losing the last bit of energy it had to keep beating.

”I'm not good enough for you?”

”No! I-”

”Fuck you!” he screams. No! It's not that. He's too good for me. He's too wonderful. He's got it all wrong.

”Gerar-”

”No! You fucking asshole! Stay the fuck away from me!” He storms back to his car and gets in, slamming the door just when I'm about to shout at him. He starts the engine.

”You're too good for me!” I scream, just as he takes off down the road. He makes a U-turn and comes driving back towards me.
”You're too good!” I scream as the car rushes past me. He didn't even look at me.

As planned, I turn and walk down the road. I walk past the tire tracks Gerard left when he turned around and keep walking until my feet pound against the boards of the bridge. I make it to the weak spot where a car went through over 15 years ago. I stand there and look down at the murky water. It's so still.

The boards suddenly give in, and before I know it, my inner thigh hurts like hell and my entire body is soaking wet. I can't breathe.

And I don't want to.

Even though gravity pulls me up, I fight it. I stay in the water, even when my brain starts screaming for life.

I cry. I cry out for help. I cry out in pain. I cry out in sorrow. Even though I'm soaking wet, I can still feel my burning eyes spill over with tears.

I'm drowning in my own tears; in my own sea of despair and lost chances.

And then, I let all that in. I let the tears, the despair and the missed opportunities rush into me; rush down my throat, taking my heart along with it. I feel my lungs tickle as it all swirls around and mixes up nice and good.

This is why you're too good for me. All I am is a waste of breath.