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Somehow man perceives goodness as weakness, love as animal instinct, and the relationship between loved ones has become as priceless as a whiff of wind. Each of us at a certain period of time is looking for that person with whom it would be easy and free, that person from whom the whole body shuddered with the desire to be near and to be loved. It doesn’t matter how old a person is, only one thing matters: Feeling. We walk hundreds of meters in a day, we drive thousands in a car, but we see nothing but gray faces that don’t care about us. Neither do we. And maybe somewhere in the midst of this crowd is the right person. A man destroys his own desires before he has even thought about the future.

One day on my way home (I don’t like public transportation) I took the route I was used to. I had a lot of thoughts in my head, and almost all of them were about nothing. I passed the bridge, stopping, walking up to the fence, looking down at the shimmering cars. The funeral flowers on the pole caught my attention. I became curious as to what had happened here, what it was like, etc. My body went numb and I couldn’t move, I remembered: a year earlier a young girl had jumped down here, earlier a car had flown out, and a couple months ago a young guy had been killed in a drunken brawl. All the bridges of the world must have claimed thousands of lives, and their story will never fade into obscurity.

One day on my way home (I don’t like public transportation) I took the route I was used to. I had a lot of thoughts in my head, and almost all of them were about nothing. I passed the bridge, stopping, walking up to the fence, looking down at the shimmering cars. The funeral flowers on the pole caught my attention. I became curious as to what had happened here, what it was like, etc. My body went numb and I couldn’t move, I remembered: a year earlier a young girl had jumped down here, earlier a car had flown out, and a couple months ago a young guy had been killed in a drunken brawl. All the bridges of the world must have claimed thousands of lives, and their story will never fade into obscurity.

Standing on that bridge for those minutes, I was suddenly pulled down, I guess the wind was picking up. I recoiled. I sat down on the curb and began to remember everything that had happened to me. That year had been terrible for me, the loss of someone I had been free with, someone I trusted and truly loved. It was hard to go through all that and, unfortunately, I didn’t have the right people around to express the pain I was feeling. Only at night did I weep secretly and pray to God for him. In time, the pain subsided, leaving me with only memories and sadness.

Then another blow and another man was gone. It was as if time was taking away what I really cared about and watching to see when I would break. All these thoughts were pulling me against the railing of the bridge, and the bottom was beckoning to me.

Waking up from this obsession, I got up, turned on the music, and without looking down, I walked on. There were cars driving by, people standing at traffic lights, languishing in anticipation of the green light, and everyone had their own thoughts. Only a couple of them had smiles on their faces-it made me optimistic and happy.

When I got home, I wrote a few lines in my diary, drew some nonsense, and cried quietly. After all, I had lost almost everything, and those thoughts that beckoned me every time on the bridge were more and more constraining to my soul. And they call me down.

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