The Bridge I’ll Never Cross by Mayari

This story is part of the Make it Bitter or Make it Better Writing Challenge, where we invited writers to explore the storytelling possibilities of a simple situation. We gave authors free reign to interpret the prompt as they see fit, provided that they give their story a clear ending.

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Note: This story has not yet been proofread.

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Most of the things I put to paper are feelings confined within the constant search for my purpose in life. Sometimes, it stems from my insecurity towards the career path that I chose. It's rare, however, for me to put feelings in print, in terms of what I neglect the most, love and intimacy.

It is rare because I’m partial when it comes to that part of my life since I never felt the need to focus on what seems to be a destructive emotion. Perhaps I also fear craving love beyond what I deserve.

And I was so sure I wouldn’t crave it with you.

I brushed it off almost immediately when someone noticed it. I erased it from my memory when you called my name endearingly because I was sure I’d imagined it. I repress that giddy feeling when I felt you wanted to protect me crossing the street to get to your car. I pretended to feel nothing and told myself your praises for getting the job done is out of politeness, not affection. I hate myself for searching for you every time I step into the room. I hate giving it meaning whenever we seem to find each other’s gazes across a crowd.

I wanted to burn that bridge with you before it even existed because I know it’s never going to be what I think it is. Quite frankly, I’m not sure I want to cross that bridge at all. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t want too either.

My instincts whisper that you’re all motive and agenda. And every step seems calculated, as if you have a different plan that I was never meant to understand. But I don't want to be strung along as a pawn in someone else's game, like I'm a piece on a chessboard, even if your intention is to bring me along. I still don't want any part of it, even if you want me up there with you. If you knew the real me, you’d know that "up" isn’t exactly the first direction I’d go. But maybe I never really knew you either. 

My insticts tell me that you are a child in the guise of a gentleman. Someone willing to do whatever it takes to reach a goal and be somwhere they want to be. Nothing inherently wrong with that as long as you’re not hurting someone. But experince dictates that people who think that way, will eventually drop “unnecessary” people if need be. That everybody is just an acquaintance if the social scene dictates it so. 

That's when I realized, you never even considered me as someone to cherish. Not even as a friend.

And it didn’t take long when I knew you were just playing nice with me. I felt a little tinge realizing I was just being tolerated. People would usually just hate me, like me, or remain indifferent and I deemed it normal. But it’s the first in a long time I cared enough about what others think of me and knowing I was tolerated by you was a different kind of pain. It made me feel small, unwanted and never enough. That was when I knew I had to stay away. 

Feeling so helplessly drawn to you, especially when you enter my fantasies, is what I hate the most. It makes me feel powerless even in things that I should possess full control of. 

But it ends here.

I will make it as if these feelings never existed.

It’s been so long since I felt such unpredictable emotion but I know it has to vanish. It makes me sad, weary, and frustrated, but I have to let it go.

And until I figure out a way for me to lock these feelings away for good, my little eyes will resist the urge to search for you in every room. I won't look your way unless it’s necessary. You’ll never know of these feelings until distance will do what I cannot - separates us, quietly and completely.

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