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My Mr. Perfect
My Mr. Perfect
Author: Lucie James

Chapter One

Marcus

I stare at the dark water from my vantage point at the top of the bridge. I know I should feel sad or even afraid, considering what I am about to do. But I feel nothing. I am so numb inside, like a dried-up husk. I sigh and give my phone one last look; no calls as usual, not even a promotional text from my service provider. It's such a cold and dreary night that it perfectly matches my mood. I want to scream; maybe someone somewhere can hear me, can heed my pain, but I know it's futile. I gulp and try to stop the tears I feel prickling at the back of my head.

I don't want to be this pathetic, but does it really matter? Even if I cried, who would hear me? It's midnight on an obscure bridge with the noise of the water below. I let the floodgate open and sob uncontrollably for what feel like hours. I cry until I fear I will not be able to stop long enough to accomplish what I came here to do. It wouldn't surprise me if I were unable to do it. Like everything else in my life, I would probably fail even at death. I hiccup as I will my tears to stop. I had hoped the crying would be cathartic, but all I feel is empty, numb, and tired, so tired my head feels heavy. I lean over the bridge more to support my weary body than a need to get nearer to my death. This is it! The end of my pathetic twenty-four years of miserable existence.

I am surprised I made it this far, considering I was doomed at birth. My mother died while giving birth to me, my deadbeat dad abandoned me at the hospital, and no other next of kin could be found. Apparently, my mother was an only child, and her parents had passed on before I made an appearance. I must have been cursed with rejection because, contrary to the nurses and the social workers hopes, I never got adopted. I grew up in group homes and a few foster homes that somehow never stuck. Being moved around from birth turned me  into a fearful child who only talked when addressed and would go long periods without uttering a word. I was sent to different specialist whose conclusion was nothing was wrong with me, and I was just being a little shit. Well, not in precisely those words, but I got the gist. I just had to grow up and get over it. Over time I learned to fake everyday human interactions and smiled when I was smiled at, making an effort to fit in in school. Still, it never came naturally. By the time I was a teenager, I was done acting, and back to being the moody, uncommunicative fuck I always was. At 18, I was officially off the system, and I could live on my own. Still, having barely graduated high school, there was no question of attending college.

I resigned myself to menial labor while hoping something anything would change. Finally, I would feel alive, like I mattered and was important to someone, but that never happened. After a string of bad luck, I ended up homeless for the last six months. Hunger and loneliness were my constant companions until I decided to stop being a pussy and end it all. It's not like I was waiting for prince charming to find me! Yeah, on top of everything, I was gay as fuck. I really should pick a struggle, but it seems struggle picks me. Being gay wasn't an issue except for the part where no man had shown interest in me. According to one of my many co-works, I was unapproachable and depressive. I don't know how I could be anything else since I had been depressed for as long as I can remember.

So anyway, here I was at my favorite spot, ready to end it all, to finally rest. Hopefully, the afterlife will be much kinder to me. I think hard about what I regretted the most. All I can think about is that I have never been kissed romantically by another person or been told I love you, and I feel the longing for that deep in my bones.

I wish I had had even a brief affair, even a one-sided one, just to feel the heat of another being, but I guess it wasn't in the cards for me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath; this is the final moment. I climb the bridge and look up last chance to see the faint stars. I look down again, gulp, close my eyes and let go.

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