I walk.
I hardly feel like I am walking, more as though I am floating.
I don’t feel my feet hit the over-grown path in which I am walking on. I don’t feel the knee-high weeds brush my legs, that usually make me shudder. I don’t hear the leaves crunching below me, nor do I hear the birds that sing above. Those were all things I used to take notice in.
I don’t notice anything anymore.
My feet continue to float down this forgotten path, until my destination is visible. Although I see the end, my feet carry no faster.
I feel nothing when I arrive at the bridge. My mind is elsewhere.
I drag my lifeless feet along the aging boards of the bridge. No one has cared about this bridge in ages, we have something in common.
My toes are barely on the edge of the bridge. I lift my head up for the first time all day to see the view I had been waiting for. I admire the sun, at it’s beautiful mid-sky position.  I watch the water stream quickly down the small stream that the bridge overlooks. Most importantly, I admire the rocks directly beneath me.
My heart jumps for a moment.
I take a deep breath. I feel the warm post-spring air circle into my lungs. I ball my hands into fists. This is the moment I have been waiting for.
This is the moment I have been waiting for.
I feel my heart rate rise drastically. I feel my legs begin to go numb. I feel the shivering throughout my spine. This is the most I have felt in weeks.
I am finally ready. I let my toes push me off the side of the soft wood. For a brief second, I feel the air surround me as I plummet to my death.
And then there was nothing.