Ficly

Breaking free.

I stand here, looking down from the bridge to the swirling dark waters below and wonder, what did I do wrong? What did I do that made life unbearable, friends distant, family estranged, or work seem more of a punishment than a vocation, and my boss Jeff’s smile just a cynical manipulation to squeeze a few more efficiency hours from me.

“It’s a chemical imbalance,” my doctor had said. “You don’t produce enough Serotonin, too much Cortisol, take these pills and try to avoid stress.”

Is that all I am, a chemical machine? Enslaved by hormones and my blind reactions to forces that surround me but can’t control? Punished in the end by my own dark thoughts that spring unbidden from that black well inside?

I will be free, I will not let Hydrogen, Oxygen and Nitrogen rule my life, nor will I be saved or condemned by those around me. I will choose my own path, live my own life.

I lean forward, feel my fingers slip from the cool metal, and fall.

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