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Under the bridge

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There used to be a rope attached to the bridge. It’s a truss railroad bridge over a creek. I suspect it was a swimming hole rope since it had a number of knots tied in the lower third.

Two years ago I tried to hang myself from that rope. It was a cold morning and I was in the middle of my run. I climbed up the angled truss. I was 30 feet above the creek. I got to the point of tying it around my neck. But climbed down in the end.

The rope isn’t there anymore.

Most of the desire to kill myself is gone too.

Sometimes the desire comes back. I’m not scared of it. I’ve lived with it for most of my life. When you’re aware of your ability to take your life you find great power in living it too.

I still run under that bridge every week.

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