I can feel the coldness of the orange steel radiate from my fingertips to the rest of my body. The gritty dust and the rounded rivets somehow feel familiar. The frigid, salty breeze stings my eyes, the tears soften the midnight blue of the sea below. I clear a torn, black tarp to get a better grip. Then, I lower myself and hang.
I can feel the gravity inside me pulling. I can feel the tension in my arms and grip. I look down and remember factual details: At this height, I'll hit the water as if it was concrete; The Golden Gate Bridge is a popular tourist and suicide destination.
Then, I just let go. I release the bridge. The wind, in a deafening rush, tries to save me. I get the sense of freefall and take the longest, deepest breath of my life. I don't flail. I'm completely in the moment. This is it.
To Be Continued...
