Sunday, 26 October 2008

Under the Bridge

I dont ever want to feel

Like I did that day

Take me to the place I love

Take me all the way


Under the bridge downtown

Is where I drew some blood

Under the bridge downtown

I could not get enough

Under the bridge downtown

Forgot about my love

Under the bridge downtown

I gave my life away


-"Under the Bridge" by Red Hot Chili Peppers


I love my family, most of the time. When battles occur within the walls of what is supposed to be my safe haven, I hate them. For over ten years I had to fight against parents, siblings, and emotions. That was until I became a capricious runaway, only sneaking into my house at two in the morning to eat something. I actually started to keep things there since I knew it would be a matter of days and sometimes even hours before I would return.


I always went to the same place, underneath a bridge less than a mile away. I had been driven across this bridge every school day for seven years, and never gave a second thought to it, never knowing it would be the most important place to me. I ran away one day and I went to that bridge, and since then it has been my favorite place.


My bridge crosses the railroad tracks that run parallel to my street. It breaks into three compartments, the middle being where the train tracks are, but I always stay on one side, I have gotten used to it.


I would sit on the ground, stare at the graffiti covered wall and cry. If it was a really intense fight that would drive me from my house, I would hit the walls untill my hands were numb, bloodied, and one time even broken. I always had problems coping, and being under the bridge gave me a place to express things anyway I wanted, be it scream, cry, or something worse.


No one ever knew where I was. People only went down there to spray paint the walls, but I was never there the same time someone else was. I loved the graffiti, well most of it. One picture, that still remains there, is imbedded in my memory. It is of a a man in a skirt with a big head, big feet, and big eyes. It always made me smile, no matter what had gone wrong.


I still go there anytime I am home, just to see the man. But when I go there, it isn't because something went wrong, it is because I want to be there. Now being under the Bridge allows me to see how much I have grown. I no longer runaway, I stand and face my fears.



(My favorite piece of work from under the bridge. Thanks to someone I wish I knew.)

-Saint Peters College

2 comments:

Jonathan Taylor said...

Hi there - I really like the way you incorporate the picture into the story here. Thanks for sharing this piece. Jonathan

Ryan said...

I agree with Jonathan -- actually having a picture of the 'place' is a compelling prospect, and I've always loved this notion of unexpected / hidden beauty in places we might not normally look for it.

Also, great song lyrics!