blame me for everything — go ahead. it changes nothing.
it won’t change what we’ve done and what we’ve said. it won’t bring water under the bridge. it is time to begin to accept that.
i am no one but me and you are no one but you. this is how the world turns. i know you wish i was a better person, but i am only a human. i am not as forgiving or as patient as you wish i am. i am no one but me. i am sour and acidic and bitter — there is nothing glorious about this. it is time to begin to accept that.
what happened has happened. it is gone, it is done. we are made of different things, you and i — it is time to begin to accept that.
you cannot mend shattered glass. you can put it together, but there will still be cracks left. we have done too much damage to repair things completely. put an end to this foolishness, put an end to this game. we are walking in circles around an all-consuming truth. we are dancing away from what we must accept.
the bridge between us is tattered, nothing left there but a rope, and under this torn rope is poison. we are standing on tiptoes upon a bridge that will fall someday or another. the air is cold and it is foggy and mist is wafting through the sky; this place is dismal and it is toxic. we should leave. i am turning my back, ready to walk away. i take a step, but i keep hearing you call out. i wonder, should i whirl around to face you? (no, i shouldn’t, because the rope is precarious territory and i am barely hanging on and too much movement will rock me down into the abyss of poison below. i know this and yet i stop as i hear your voice.)
the wind whips at my skin and carries your voice here. i want to stay here and respond. i want to say something. i want to tell you it isn’t worth it. but i know i shouldn’t, because it will spark a conversation, which is just more time atop this dreaded rope, more time above these dreaded fumes with green whorls of venom swirling underneath us. the smell is making me dizzy and it takes effort to keep standing here — it is putting strain upon my feet.
i take a step. i hear your voice. i don’t stop. it is easier, now, that i am moving my feet. my other foot moves. i am closer to the end of the rope than ever before. land stands before me, flat ground with nothing under it. it motivates me. there are only a few more steps left — one, then another, and another, and i am one step away when i hear your call again.
but it is vague in the distance. we are far away now. i can only hear your voice, but i cannot decipher the words. my foot moves of its own accord — i take my first step back on steady ground. the other foot follows.
the poison is rushing beneath me, but it is distant now. the wind brings goosebumps to my flesh, but this is another distant trouble. i turn around for the first time since i had taken my step away. you are still standing there. alone on a bridge that’s soon to fall.
my journey here has ended. i refuse to stand here, i refuse to stay here. i look at you and i know you cannot hear me, but i whisper, “it’s your turn now.” your turn to turn around. your turn to take the fateful steps away. your turn to end this pointless stance.
maybe you can see my lips moving. maybe you can’t. but it doesn’t matter, because i know that this is the place where i will begin to let go. it is a quiet step, more powerful than the heaviest stomp.
i watch you. i hear my heartbeat rushing in the silence. then, once more, i turn away and walk, back toward home.
— i will stand on poison no longer // victoria
@eloquencenet event: new beginnings // @eloquencenet challenge: old endings
