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My Decay

I feel like I'm in the middle of an old, creaky bridge that will at any moment break, plunging me down into the middle of this deep black and empty abyss. And there's no escaping it. I can't move forward and I can't move back, because every movement causes another fiber in the bridge's structure to break. Hell, I can't even see where this damn bridge begins and ends. For all I know it could go on forever with it's broken boards and fraying ropes. So I just sit here with my legs dangling over the edge, waiting for the inevitable. Crying a little. Wondering why I prolong it. Why don't I just jump and get it over with. And when I fall, where will I go. Will I fall forever, or will I perhaps eventually hit the bottom. Probably will just fall forever. That's the way these things always work. Secretly I wish that someone would come along and rescue me. Looking back and forth, I'll wonder why no one comes. Feeling myself slowly decay, like the ropes. Occasionally dipping my legs and arms down into the black. And then I slip. And then I panic. Somehow I always manage to grab a stray rope and pull myself back up. It scares me when that happens. Makes me cry more. Thrills me a little too, but I suppose that's expected since it's the most that ever happens on this bridge.

And I pull myself back up.
And I cry.
And I decay.
And I wonder why no one comes to rescue me.
And I wonder why I prolong the pain.
And I wonder why I save myself.
And I wonder why I can't let it go.
And I wonder why I think that way.
And I wonder if this bridge ever ends.
And I wonder where I'll go when I fall.
And then I dip again.
And then I slip again.

^*^Been awhile since I've had the urge to write^*^