There's an old bridge that connects your side of town with an abandoned tin mine. It is hid from most common folks' knowledge, probably not even shown in Google map. You know this place for the longest time. It used to be haunted, home of spooky spirit that eats children's soul, but you are not afraid of it anymore.

It used to be bustling with people. People doing work that make the world go round. And then after the mineral was exhausted, everybody moved away. When people were not around, the ghosts moved in, and as you grow older, you built up your courage and chased away the ghosts. Now the bridge is yours. A place where you spent countless hours doing absolutely nothing but watching the day pass by. You cried here a few times too. When life got too unbearable, that bridge was your last fortress. There's something soothing about the place. Maybe the spirits are still there, listening to your troubles between your sobbings. And then as if they gave you their understanding blessings, you felt like your pain was lifted and you walked home as light as a butterfly. This therapy arrangement helped you to get through most of your hellish teenage years. And you didn't share your secret with anyone else.

Today is a different story tho. You are not here to tell your story. You're here to say goodbye. The quiet life in this sleepy town smothered you. You're tired of the stillness of this place. The silence of the surrounding seemed so loud that you feel like you're not invited to share a known secret.

But mostly you're running away from that face. The one that you once trusted and cared and meant the world to you. The love is still in your heart, but a betrayal should never be paid with a trust. A trust is a one time deal. Once it's broken, it can never be mend. Or maybe it is your heart that you cannot trust? You tend to be reckless, offering your forgiveness to those who don't deserve it. There's no quota for forgiveness, but there's so much a heart can take. You have to protect yourself. You need to survive.

You stand under the flood of sun light, drifting your eyes into the wide open vista. Without a spoken word, you wish your best regards to your surroundings. To the lake, to the shrub and bushes, to the wind, to the old bridge and to the spirits. Thank you for being a friend. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, as if you're trying to suck the soul of the place into your lungs, so that they will be a permanent part of you. You hope that another lonely soul will take over your place and be the bridge's companion, for you are not going to return back. Ever. This is a divorce.

Good-bye.

Just breathe in and walk away.

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