The rushing wind scattered her fraying brown hair as she climbed over the fence. To most, the fence acted as protection, keeping them from falling off the edge of the bridge if anything ever goes wrong; but to her, it stood only as an obstacle, keeping her from what seemed the only escape from the cold, lonely, vicious box that she had been put into.

Clinging to the fence with her arms, she planted her other foot on the edge of the bridge. For a moment, there was silence. Save for the wind rushing past her ears, all she could hear was the glorious sound of silence.

Soon, the wind and the silence began to trade places in a tremendously elegant cross-fade. Soon, all she heard and felt was the wind, continuously bombarding her bare arms and face. She shivered for a moment, but her body reflexively refused to let go of the fence.

The wind began to calm down again, slowly coming to a stop. She could feel the Sun’s warmth on her face, if only for a second, before the wind picked up once more, now nothing more than a gentle breeze.

The wind cooled her, comforted her, and she realized that she had been basking in the glow of the Sun for much longer than she had initially thought. Not that she could fault herself for it: it was likely the last chance she would ever get to do so. After what she was about to do, she would get no more chances for anything.

The air gently gushed by, lightly caressing her skin. It gave her a greater sense of security, similar in strength to that one would have in the fact that gravity would always pull you towards Earth or that the Sun would rise once every 24 hours and set once as well.

She imagined herself taking the jump she was about to take, just to rehearse it one last time. The air rushed up past her as she mentally plunged through it. The image of herself suddenly sprouted massive wings from her arms, and she began to glide through the air. The wings were a gorgeous shade of white, and they could fill up a whole room if she extended them to full length indoors. The feathers protected her wings from the chilly exterior, keeping her new wings nice and warm.

It was all so vivid to her. Briefly, she could have sworn that she felt the warmth of the feathers seeping into her physical self.

She wondered if that was what it would feel like to have wings instead of arms.

She opened up her eyes, knowing that was what she wanted. She desired that feeling. She craved the feeling of flying freely as the wind rushed under her newly formed wings. She wanted - no, she needed to soar a mile, two miles, ten miles up in the sky, free from the chains that bound her helpless legs to the bleak, depressing place called ‘solid ground.’

And it truly was depressing - not only the ground, but also the creatures that live on it. They call themselves ‘people.’ Every morning on this ground, she looked around at the world and its people, thinking and hoping that she would on that day find herself stumbling across something fresh, something uplifting, something heartfelt; she woke up every morning, praying that she would see even one simple act of kindness; and day after tedious day, she found herself thoroughly disappointed.

At first, she tried to change this status quo, to break the mold; she rebelled against society’s seemingly hypnotic behavior. She would look at the way other people acted, and she always told herself that if she could free one person - just one - from the wicked curse society had placed on them, that her life would have had purpose, would have had meaning.

But she eventually came to realize what the truth was. She had to give in. Every day saw no change, and she knew that wasn’t about to change. There was no changing it. The only way to escape this society was to leave it, and the only way to leave it was to...

Of course, she realized now that she should have known this from the very beginning. You can’t change a prison into a playground. No matter how hard you try, the cells are not monkey bars; the bunk bed has no slide for you to slide down when you climb up; and there is no way to create a swing set out of the toilet seat. You can pretend all you want that you’re having fun, that you’re enjoying yourself, but that fact remains that a prison is always a prison, no matter how hard you try.

A single tear rolled down her face. It was a lot like herself, she realized: it was a single drop of water on the face of society. It didn’t blend it; it didn’t fit; there were none like it for it to befriend. There was only the single tear and the rest of society.

She wiped the lonesome tear from her face. Freshly smeared mascara hid her forefinger from sight. For a split second, she pondered the reason she had even bothered to apply make-up that morning.

Whatever. That didn’t matter now - none of it did. It would all be over soon. Closing her eyes and loosening her grip on the fence, she prepared herself to jump. Tears flowed from her eyes without hesitation now. She began her slow count down to her jump, her voice quietly wavering throughout all of it.

“Three.” She felt her heart pounding. She had to enjoy what little time she had left.

“Two.” She had get all of the sadness and anger out of her system. The last thing she wanted was to die thinking about something depressing.

“One.” It was so close now. She could practically feel death embracing her, bringing an icy cold feeling to her limbs. It was time to say goodbye to the world.

“Zero.” Goodbye.

She hesitated.

She finally processed her earlier metaphor. The tear drop had smeared her mascara. And wasn’t she the tear drop? Yes, she was the tear drop.

She was the tear drop.
 

The tear drop was her.

She stood there, barely holding onto the fence of the bridge, eyes closed, panting, heart thundering, prepared to end it all; yet she couldn’t, because she was the tear drop. She was the tear drop. She was the tear drop, and the little voice in her head hesitated none to remind her.

You are the tear drop.
You are the tear drop.
You are the tear drop.
She could make a difference. She could change society, even if only a little bit.

She was the tear drop, and she could smear the mascara on the face of society to reveal a much kinder, more welcoming face. The whole world would know who the face really was!

She couldn’t jump; that much she knew for sure now. She carefully threw her right leg back over the fence.

Once she was completely on the other side, she looked out at the beautiful river that she had nearly leapt into. The Sun’s reflection shone, distorting all the while, but it still was recognizable as itself. She could feel the warm breeze as it blew gently across her skin, calming her.
The wind was there for her.
It was time for her to soar.