You are on that bridge.
You are watching the waves sequester the shoreline. You hope to wash away. You wish the tides would hide you from it all – from the damage you created; from the anger you think you should have extinguished, from the ones you deeply hurt.
You are petrified. Maybe alone. Maybe sick. Maybe bruised. Maybe desolate. But alive. But breathing. But shivering. But still here. Somewhat hopeful. There is always a way off the bridge. Believe me, madness lies is staying. Madness lies is wasting away your potential. Yes, the crossing will be tough, but these consequences will reform you. You just have to follow them through. You see, everyone is scared of something. Everyone will fail. And just because right now you are in the slums does not mean you have to stay there. You see, the bridge is only real if you allow it to be. Erase it, and paint each following breathe with salt from the tears you try to bury.
Whether tired or rested, whether hungry or full, whether motivated or not, you have to show up to that job you don’t always love, to that birthday party you don’t want to attend, to the doorstep you walked away from. You have to face the people you hurt. You have to face the people you lied to. The one’s whose trust you couldn’t keep. The ones you could not protect. The ones you couldn’t listen to. You have to face the ones you have a hard time forgiving. The ones whose eyes you can’t look into. The ones you imagine you won’t be able to ever trust again. You have to care. Because we cannot function alone. We are not enough for ourselves. Walk away. The bridge does not hold you.
Please, savor every step. Allow the pressure to open your lungs for deep steady breathes. Let the ocean mist fill your veins with acceptance, with determination, with peace. You get to continue life beside another face, a different hand, a separate breath. We need others. We cannot survive watching waves alone.
And for someone, you might be the perfect stranger. The one who was the unexpected. The one who changed their day. You are the lovely hero you read from books on trains. You are the one who stops beside the homeless, feeding them a morsel of bread. You are the one who reads books to children in libraries on Friday afternoon. You are the one who leaves messages of hope for someone to find as they sit in coffee shop corners. You are the teacher who stays up all night grading essays because nurturing people of substance matters to you. You are the one who doesn’t shy away from deep thoughts, from your beliefs, from sharing your opinions, from pursuing every opportunity you get.
You are enough.
You are the unforgettable.
You are the risk-taker.
So be that.
And never stop.
You opened your eyes? You did.