This Is Not the First Time

I wanted to die on this pleasant day with an orange-gold sky, with a few people passing by. Nobody was watching, and yet I wished someone was spectating. I desired attention from a stranger as it was the purest form of affection. I knew this was hypocritical. I knew I wouldn’t jump off this bridge into the shallow waters below.

My thoughts cycled back again: If I’m alive, I suffer. I have seen enough. There was no hope, and yet I still wished for my desired outcome.

I fantasized of a parallel world where she liked—-loved me, and not some other stranger she was happily walking with. But, I already did what I could, and she did not want me. I imagined taking her boyfriend’s place or just plainly murdering him, kidnapping her away, and other illegal thoughts.

But I was a coward. I wouldn’t do those, I wouldn’t do that, I wouldn’t jump off this bridge either. This bridge has become a special place for me to linger with these thoughts. The bridge of imagining endless possibilities.

Still, I wanted to see if anyone would care for the lonely me, so I faked going over the railings, and alas! A voice called out.

“Stop!” a female’s strained voice echoed across the bridge. The powerful voice froze me in place, my leg lifted above the railings and my hand supporting my weight——a perfect balance. But, I noticed that the same voice sounded exhausted as if she was running towards me to yell. Her heavy footsteps and her nearing heaving confirmed my guess.

For a moment, I felt warm in the inside, but this voice was too familiar. My face dropped in disappointment. “How did you know?”

She recovered her breath as she feebly pulled the edge of my shirt. “It was obvious!”

My tongue clicked unconsciously, “You freak. Did you chase after me? How could you see me without your glasses? Do you have a thermal vision or a tracking device on me?”

She sighed, “This is your ‘thank you’ you give to your savior?”

“Oh, don’t call yourself that.”

“Then do it then!”

I scowled, still frozen in place.

` “You won’t do it, pussy.”

“Watch your tongue, young lady.”

“Don’t try to piss me off. I’ll throw you off myself.”

I sighed. “Fine, you got me.” This was the usual degree of mocking that we both were accustomed to. Both of us wore a thick skin. Then, I finally began acting like a normal, non-suicidal human.

She heaved a heavier sigh. “Something happened at college today?” I refused to answer. “I know it has become routine for you to come here, at this bridge, just for me to talk to you. Don’t pretend.”

“This is why I call you a psycho, you mind-reading, stalking, psychology major student.”

“Hey! That’s rude.” She didn’t care.

“Get used to it, crazy therapist.”

“You’re just a research subject.”

“You say that, but I know you care.”

She laughed. “No, I don’t.”

I started fake crying. “I knew it! You didn’t care about me at all!” I again slowly climbed the railings, but she pulled me by the ear. “Ow ow ow ow! What the hell? That’s not good manners, young lady.”

She angrily whispered, “Shut up! Don’t call me that.”

I laughed at the irony of it all. She hated being called a young lady but didn’t mind being called a psycho.

“Stop laughing and start venting. What has got you feeling depressed again today?” I pursed my lips and looked towards the sky, but my eyes drooped below. The sadness was burdening. The reason why was somewhat embarrassing to confide. “Feeling shy? This isn’t about your GPA, is it?”

I hated her playing the detective. These leading questions that only required silence as an answer always brought her closer to the truth. I mouthed “You mind-reading freak,” but my voice failed to carry the thought. I knew she read that though, because all girls could somehow interpret mouth movements. In that sense, all women were freaks.

She placed her hands akimbo as if she were a mother about to sermon her child. “Not again, it’s her isn’t it?”

I slightly looked away, as my cheeks started to feel heavy, but she countered it by pulling my chin with her hand.

“Someone’s youthful.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, good job detective. Can you stop asking questions now? I need my lawyer.”

She grinned. “I win again! I mean, I already won since I already knew.”

“Oh really? Give me a lengthy exposition of your discovery, Sherlock Holmes.”

It was her turn to stay silent. It was my turn for my epic interrogation. “Look at me, at my eyes. Come on, read my mind.” She pouted. Her eyes increased in irritation. She knew she was defeated by her ignorance of the specifics. “Getting a little curious, aren’t we?” I chuckled. I guess you weren’t that great of a detective after all.“ Her cheeks remained puffed. She would have to break her pride to ask me. ”So, what would it be now? Should you start guessing or should you start conceding?“

“I—I…” Her eyes danced as she tried to conjure some kind of reason. “Ouno… was, uh…. She was, you know, you know what she does because you stalk all her socials, so you know, she posted a story. It was with someone. She kissed him—I mean held hands. They are not there yet, but you know, you feel they are, but they are.”

I was disappointed and annoyed. It may not be completely true, but the general theme was there. Plus points in favor of her!

Then, her eyes started to glisten, which was a bad sign of growing triumph and impending doom for me. “You mother freak.”

“Oh! I know, I know! She was with someone.”

“Yeah, she was, with her friend.”

“Yeah! A boyfriend.”

“No, a friend that is a girl”

“A girlfriend will make you that jealous?”

“Yeah, her girlfriend was lesbian. Of course, I’m jealous.”

“You want to be gay?”

“No! How do you come to that?”

“I support it. After all, the purpose of suicide is to rest life. But changing sex is another way.”

“You’ve been a horrible therapist and a disappointing detective.”

“Stop trying to deny. She was with someone, who is a male, who you think deserves her more than you do.”

“To hell with that.”

“But, I’m confused. You wouldn’t kill yourself over that, would you?”

Oh crap. “Well, a lot of boys kill themselves if a female idol retires.”

“Wait, no way… She has a boyfriend!?” she squealed.

I gritted my teeth. Naturally, she got it right on the mark! “Great work detective!” I say in a mocking tone. “You got me, my motives and everything—” I stopped. I realized that she didn’t know the full details yet. I could still recover this. “But, oh, you know, it’s old news. So, it’s not about that. Instead, it was a different crime,” I grinned.

Her mouth was agape. She thought she had planted the flag of victory. Instead, she planted it on the wrong hill. The truth is, she did plant it on the correct hill, but I made her think that she made a fatal mistake. A slight smirk grew, and I could barely hold in my laugh.

As if a switch was flicked, her face suddenly bloomed with a smile. “You tried,” she giggled, “ you tried.”

“What do you mean?”

“You tried to mislead me.”

“Mislead you? About this? That would be very messed up.”

“I agree. You’re pretty messed up.”

I scoffed. “All right, detective, prove it.”

“Your right leg.”

“Hm?” I looked down. There was nothing especially wrong with my right leg considering I had brought it down minutes ago when I was attempting an impressive parkour off the bridge. I was standing with both feet, nothing unusual with that. I stiffened my leg muscles to see if I had a health condition I didn’t know, but I failed to diagnose any defects with it. “What about it—” Oh, this mother of all freaks. I like observing people, but I hate being observed. Usually, I was invincible to most people, and I could stare, leer, and do whatever I wanted. Even if I raised my voice, people seemed to not hear me. More than half the time, I simply gave up continuing to speak.

But this woman had an innate superhuman ability——one she has been cursed with since birth. The most perceptive eye all-discerning mind, paired with the bluntest tongue of all existence were the qualities of Yue Purichiran. Contrary to what her name meant, she was a curse that had been cursed with the curse of knowledge and understanding.

“You were lying,” she gleamed.

“Prove it in a thesis—oh, you can’t even write a comprehendible one. What was the grade that your professor gave you? An F?”

“Oh, stop being petty. When you lie, you are nervous. And when you are nervous, your right leg unconsciously shakes.” She scoffed. “You young men are so simple.”

“And you women are complicated.”

“Was that meant as an insult?”

“I’m going to be honest, I thought it would be effective.”

She laughed. “I have to be honest too. I saw her walking with her new boyfriend in the hallways today. I figured you must have seen them both earlier.”

I sighed in defeat, “Yeah, I saw them leaving from the train when I was about to enter. Though, that was yesterday.”

“Are you certain that was her boyfriend though?”

“You tell me.”

She pondered for a while. “You might be right. I guess you men have a little sophistication in your critical thinking.”

“What is that supposed to mean? I mean, you’re just a mind-reading freak. Yet, you still can’t get a boyfriend.”

“Not like I want one.”

I thought that would be effective. Considering her background though, it wouldn’t be. Maybe this would be more effective, “How about me?”

“How about you, what? That isn’t a sentence with a complete thought.”

“Have you heard of context?”

“Ha! You? Ha, it would only be out of pity anyone would have you as their boyfriend.”

“That hurts,” I said as I began to pretend suicide.

She pulled my shirt, “All right, all right, stop, stop, stop.”

“Still considering it though.”

“I understand, but you also said yourself you would finally move on when she finds someone. You said as long as she was happy, you are happy.”

“And I’m finding it difficult to do that. I’m in disbelief myself why I’m acting like this. I guess I can’t give up on my first love—”

“Crush, not love, crush. There is a difference.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“Anyways, yours is just a freaky obsession of a woman you stalk almost every day.”

“Hey now, who are you calling a freak?”

“At least I’m not denying it.”

I grunted, but somehow, I felt my burdens alleviated by the unconventional and enraging tactics of this deranged pseudo-therapist.

“The charge would be $200,” she smiled.

“That’s like chump change,” I observed her unchanging face. “For you.”

Her lips went flat. “This is why you can’t have her. You can’t keep secrets.”

I dryly laughed. “Yeah, right.” I looked towards the sea to where the river below flows, this time with a happier perspective than the one minutes before. “I guess I can live one more day.”

“That’s what I like to hear. I can’t lose my precious subject.”

“On second thought, I—” Again, I started to climb the railings.

“Hey—hey! Stop it!”