She looked into my eyes with a big smile—a smile that maybe a stranger would just nod at and pass by.
Except I wasn’t one. I was no stranger. I could see through her eyes just how much she hurt, yet she could still force on a fake smile.
I pulled her into my arms. The scent of sweet vanilla filled my nose as I ran my hands through her curls.
I wanted to hold her and not let go. I wanted her to know that I cared.
I slowly moved my hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked stunning in the light peeking in through the window that was just a little bit open. I went ahead and wiped away her tear.
“Tell me,” I faintly whispered in her ear. “What’s wrong?”
She got quiet for a couple of minutes. I could still hear her quietly sobbing. Then, she pulled away from me, rested her back against the wall, and sat down. I sat beside her, looking into her eyes.
She must have noticed how worried I’d been, as she caressed my cheek and whispered back,
“Don’t worry so much about me, okay?”
That was when she started telling me her side of the story.
A day had gone by since I last talked to her. I was sitting in the dark, trying to finish the rest of some lyrics. This one would be a gift—for her.
It had never been hard for me to write a song, but things were different with this one.
I had tried hundreds of different words, countless crumpled papers were scattered on the floor, yet I just couldn’t get the words right. Some words would sound right, but none really delivered the message correctly.
I played one last chord before putting my guitar away. Maybe I just needed some inspiration.
That was when I decided to go on a short walk under the moonlight.
I looked into the mirror one last time before going out. I knew no one would notice me late at night, but somehow I knew I couldn’t bear it if my makeup was just a little bit smudged.
I walked toward an old bridge by the countryside. Everything was peaceful, and it was all so nice.
That was when I thought of the first line:
“If the world’s too loud, I’ll be your quiet;
If your heart’s at war, I’ll help you fight it…”
I had finally come up with an idea that felt right, so I took out an old notepad from my pocket.
Just as I wrote it down, I noticed a dark silhouette standing on the edge of the bridge.
It wasn’t easy to make out the face of the person, but it looked as if they were about to jump.
I couldn’t let that happen. I needed to stop them. I started running.
The person turned their head toward where I was coming from. I could see that they were scared.
I felt as if I was racing against time. I couldn’t help but wish for a miracle at that moment—a miracle to stop them and make them realize how being alive is a gift, not torture.
Suddenly, they stopped. I was close enough to see their face.
I was horrified when I realized who it was.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and the wind was blowing her hair away from her face. Her big green eyes gleamed in the dim light coming from the street lamps.
The sea breeze made the familiar scent of vanilla seem bittersweet.
She looked so hopeless, yet I could tell she wasn’t very surprised to see me.
I wanted to yell, I wanted to tell her to stop—but I couldn’t.
The last thing she said to me was,
“Goodbye…”
That night, I sat by the bridge and finished the entire song.
Some stories end before the conclusion is drawn,
and some kids are left wondering how else it could have gone…