“Why haven’t I gotten word back yet?” I thought as I scribbled the address on my latest letter to Him. I sent 2 back in fall, I’m not mad, just frustrated. You’d think he’d have even read one by now, I thought as I shoved the letter in the mailbox. I went back inside, grabbed a bottle of gin and my knife. I downed the whole bottle and started slitting my wrists. My girlfriend is pregnant and I have my brother to take care of. My life is over, and I’m not even 20. I walked downstairs drunkenly stumbling and bleeding. I took a seat in my usual spot, staring at all my pictures of him. I begin to write another letter, this one faster, I’m angry. I want him to reply. I’m dieing waiting. My brother and I waited for him for 6 hours outside his concert and he just ignored us! I began ripping off the pictures from the walls. My girlfriends worrying. “SHUT UP!” I say angrily as I push her aside and continue ripping off the pictures. I start a fire in my downstairs, setting off the alarms. Smashing them with a bat I grab another bottle of gin and down it.
I shove down that last letter, into the mailbox, which seemed like a black hole. I start to cry as I walk back inside my girlfriend sitting on the couch crying. I sit down next to her and tell her I’m sorry. “I’m going for a drive” I say quietly, “Don’t leave.” She says. “This is something I have to do.” He says and walks out the door, shutting it quietly behind him. She knew he wasn’t coming back.
He walks out slowly through the rain, his life’s flashing before his eyes. He slowly slides the keys into the ignition. Turning the key slowly, the car stalls. He aggressively turns the key again, the car continues to stall. “Come on d*** you!” He screams, turning the key once more. The car starts. He shifts the gear into reverse, slamming on the clutch. He hits the throttle as hard as he can and speeds toward the bridge, tape recorder out. “All I wanted was one lousy letter, or one call. I ripped everything that reminds me of you down and burned it. I love you, I followed you with a passion and you just rejected me. And I when you hear about my death I hope you can’t breath and you scream. You scream out in pain and anxiety over the life you ended, just know I died by neglect. Neglect from you. You took me out of my awful childhood and allowed me to live this far, and you were the one who ended my life too. I hope your conscience eats at you and you can’t go on.” All this was yelled into his tape recorder, he popped out the tape and put it in the glove box.
He slowed down as he was a few hundred meters from the bridge and pulled over. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Maybe I can go on.” And he took another shot of tequila. “No. I have to do this. It’s going to send a message.” He attempted to start the car, no luck. He was going have to walk. He almost made it nearly 200 meters away from the bridge. He stumbled off the road and fell on the pavement. Cold, metallic blood dripping from his face. “What am I doing?” He thought, as he shoved himself up, palms bleeding and scabbed. Closer now, he stumbled back into the road, the taste of blood still in his mouth. It must have been at least 2 hours now, only trying to get to the bridge so he could end his sad existence.

Finally he got to the bridge and sat down on the ledge, looking down at the rushing water below. He was drunk, he’d surely drown, if the impact itself did not kill him. Again he looked back on his life, he ruined his girlfriend’s life. Gave her his child. He ruined his brother’s life, after his parents died leaving him on the streets for almost a year, he was only six years old! As he looked down into that ominous inviting black, He’d made my decision. And it all went dark.