The graffiti on the edge of the bridge spelled out "I want to DIE" in thick black ink.

"I wonder how many people have jumped off of this spot," I think as I climb over the railing to the very edge of the bridge.
FEELING SUICIDAL? CALL FOR HELP.
(911) OR 1(800)-273-8255

Yet another sign proclaims the numbers to call. Why are there so many signs like these? If I thought there was hope for me, I wouldn't be here.

I looked down to the water- it's so far away and its movement makes me nauseous.

"Isn't it pretty?" asked a boy I hadn't noticed up until now.

"I guess so," I replied in a whisper.

"They say that, from this height," he said as he made his way towards me on the outside of the railing, "it's not the water that kills you."

"I don't care."

"You don't want to know what you'd die from?"

"No."

"Okay. Well, I'm Angel. Will you be jumping?"

I stared down at the water, and once again it makes me want to throw up. "Why is he talking to me? I'm obviously dead already," I think.

"I was going to jump," he continued, "but then I saw you climbing over the rail, so gracefully. It's almost as if you practiced it." I could see him out of the corner of my eye, and he seemed to be expecting an answer.

"Please don't jump," he said and I looked up at him, "You're much too pretty to die."

I flipped him off and let go of the railing. He grabbed my arm, almost ripping it out of its socket. I wriggled to try to escape his grip. "I want to die," I told him.

"Then I'm coming with you. It'd be an honor and a priviledge to die with such a beautiful girl." He began to loosen his hold on the rail.

"NO!" I yelled, not wanting to cause the death of another.

"Then help me get you up. I can't hold you like this much longer," he said. I grabbed the ledge and pulled myself up, reopening the cuts and stretching the bruises on my arms.

He pulled me back up to the ledge and asked me my name. "Death," I told him.

"Seriously?"

"No. Call me Dar."

"Okay, Dar," he replied, "Would you tell me what's wrong?"

I looked down to the nauseous water. "Nothing's wrong, everything's peachy."

"So everything," he looked down to the water, "me too."

"Does the water make him nauseous too?"

"My dad is an *sshole," he said and smiled at me, "And my girlfriend is a b****."

"Mine too," I said, and he looked at me with surprise, "Yes, girlfriend. You have a problem?"

"No, no. My first girlfriend left me for another girl."

"My first boyfriend did the same to me." He shot me another surprised look, "For another guy, not girl."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. There was a long pause, "So, come here often?"

"Yes," I said sharply, "I try to kill myself everyday at noon."

"Oh, good. So I'll see you here tomorrow?"

"You'll find me a grave girl."

" 'Tis just a scratch." We both laughed. "Ah, and the victim of depression Dar finally smiles. Now, tell me- How does that feel?"

"Dreadful," I said, still laughing slightly.

"Do you want to go get some ice-cream?" he offered.

"Sure, I guess so. I don't have any money with me. You don’t need to pay to die, after all."

"Okay, well, we'll have to go by my house first. It's not far from here."

We climbed back over the rail and walked to his house, which turned out to be only a couple blocks from the bridge. There was a little ice-cream shop only a few more blocks down.

He told me about his sweet mother who he lives with on the weekends. He told me about his best friend. He asked about me and my family. I told him about my friend. We agreed to meet the next day on the bridge at noon.

My favorite ice-cream is Rocky Road and I fell in love on a bridge at noon with an Angel.