The Falling Bridge

My eyes were getting dry and sandy. Touching them would make it worse.

It's been hours staring at this blank page.

I just can’t feel anything. This whole human experience some talk about, I don’t even know if it’s real.

I keep searching my past for clues, maybe I’ll remember something one day that will make sense out of all this. Just something to prove it’s not my fault, although it probably is.

I heard once that you must become the book you’re trying to write. So that page might remain blank forever.

I finally give up and look through the window, it’s a wooden fence as old as me. It completely blocks the view, making my cramped room even smaller. The only light comes from my laptop screen. A glaring, painful, white.

I grab my coat from the hanger and a few steps take me outside. It’s cold and wet, I like it.

In the streets I see people chatting, with heavy coats that are painted with tiny pieces of snow. Kids that can barely move. Dogs running around, digging the ground with their noses.

I see the bakery on the other side of the street, there’s a woman sitting outside. She has tall glass of red wine in front of her. It’s a curious figure, I can't say exactly why. I wonder how such a person is being ignored. People here know everything about everyone. However, I seem to be the only person to notice her.

After what it appeared to be minutes, she makes eye contact with me, as if she knew I was staring long ago. She dips a piece of bread into the wine and extend her hand towards me. My only reaction was to take a step in her direction. I hear the sound of crushed ice in the road and suddenly it’s all white, again.

I am now floating in what it seems to be an infinite pool, but there’s no water. There’s nothing actually. It took me some time to get used to it, I realised there wasn’t anything I could do.

There was a strange calm and acceptance in me. I couldn’t see my body but I felt it. I also noticed that I wasn’t actually looking anywhere, the act of turning my head and eyes somewhere didn’t seem possible. The only thing I was doing was being and feeling.

“Hello”, I hear a mysterious voice. “Sorry to have left you there alone, but it’s the protocol.”, there was a brief pause, “humans are equipped with the psychological tools they need to understand their situation here. It’s very useful, otherwise everyone would be freaking out. I left you here for a moment just so you can get used to it.”

“Are you the woman I saw?”, I asked.

“Did you like the wine and bread thing? I thought it was a nice touch. I try to be creative with people to make the experience a bit easier.”

“Are you God?”, I asked because I felt the urge to ask something but I wasn’t actually curious about anything. Apparently, we really are prepared for this already.

“Don’t worry about that. Now it’s the fun part. You get to decide how your new self will be.”

“Wait, what?”

“You see, life existence is temporary but it’s also eternal. You leave your previous life only to enter a new one. And you, my friend, can decide everything about your new life. You can pick where you want to be born, how your body will look like and your natural abilities.“

“So I decided to be a writer in this life previously?”

“Why would you want that? I think you wanted to be a carpenter, actually. The choices you make here are forgotten once you begin your new life, so people often deviate from their original plan and get distracted with silly pursuits.”

“You said we are already prepared psychologically for this, so why do I feel like this is new and unexpected?”

“You were prepared by other people, it wasn’t here. Some people decide here they want to help other people to understand this moment, so they make the choices they think will help them fulfil that purpose.”

“I want to be a writer this time! One that doesn’t always stare at a blank screen. What choices do I need to make? What abilities do I need?“

“Oh well, that’s the fun part I told you about. You will never know for sure and the choices you make now can still lead you to another path. That helps you to understand that the burdens we carried in life weren’t that big, and most of them were just consequences of your choices here.”

I suddenly realised I had no idea of what I wanted in my new life. I felt like choosing the opposite of everything I always were. I wanted to be charismatic, I wanted to enjoy the company of people, I wanted the happiness that seemed to be so far away from me. I wanted to be loved. But I was also afraid of becoming a politician.

“I think I'm ready.”, I finally said.

“I know, and I hope you enjoy it. I'll be here when you return.”

“Will I become what you are one day?”

“You might.”

“Is it when I achieve enlightenment or something like that?”

“It’s when you choose it.”

I started to feel movement, as if gravity was gradually being applied on me.

I chose to be me again, I chose to give it another try. I didn’t care about my personality, or my successes or failures.

I loved that blank page. I would stare at it for as long as I needed.

I start to feel confined in a body again, and a sudden warmth spreads all over it. I hear the sound of falling bricks behind me, as if a bridge started to colapse. My conscience starts to fade and memories disappear.

I am a blank page again.