Looking for Home

When Ashley left me, I hit the lowest point in my life. I didn’t want to live anymore. I waited until my roommates were in bed and left my apartment. I walked in the dark with my head down and my heart beating at triple its normal rate, not caring where I went or if I came back. I didn’t know if I was depressed, angry, or just sad, but I hated everything. Mostly I hated myself.

It was cold outside, and I didn’t bring a coat, but that didn’t seem to matter. I just walked. The moon was bright, and I could see shadows and outlines. I came to the railroad tracks that run through the middle of the town. I followed the tracks Northward, never looking more than a couple steps ahead. I put the earbuds from my ipod into my ears and turned up the music, hoping to drown out my pain. I wondered what would happen if there was a train and I didn’t hear it, but I knew I wouldn’t move even if I saw one.

I don’t know how far I walked, but it was for several hours.

I turned around when my ipod battery died. I took out the earbuds and put the ipod in my pocket. I stopped and looked around, surprised at how quiet and cold it was. I was alone—completely alone, and no one cared.

The railroad tracks crossed over a river close ahead. I continued walking until I was directly over the water. I stopped and placed my hands on the cold metal side of the bridge. I looked down at the water. I wondered what would happen if I jumped in. The water was about ten feet down, and I knew I wouldn’t drown, but I would certainly get hypothermia. And I knew I wouldn’t fight it; I would just let it take me.

I’ve heard that right before you die of hypothermia, you feel really warm.

I climbed onto the railing and stood above the water, looking down. I clenched my hands into fists. I don’t understand it! I thought. What happened? What the hell happened? Dear God, what happened? But God wasn’t listening; He didn’t even seem to care.

I sat on the side of the bridge with my feet hanging above the water. I sat for a long time and listened. The sound of the water was peaceful, like home, a place that doesn’t exist here anymore. I wondered if I would find home on the other side of life. The thought almost made it seem right.

But I didn’t do it. I don’t know why.

The walk home is a blur in my memory. I just remember that it was light when I got back to my apartment.

I didn’t go to bed. I didn’t change my clothes. I just went to school. That’s all I do anymore—just go to school, go to work, go home. It’s meaningless; everything is meaningless.