A diary about the other side of moving abroad

It was cold outside. The biting cold cut into Pierre's face and for the first few minutes he could only breathe flatly. Pierre knew his destination. He wanted to get to the monstrous bridge that defied all odds in the darkness. The monstrosity and strength of this construction, the resistance to all forces of nature, the ugly sobriety due to its functionality. The bridge silently but firmly ordered him to come to it. A firm but calm command that Pierre could not disobey. Pierre wanted to go there. He wanted to reach this bridge so badly, to be welcomed by it so badly, that he ran. His body couldn't keep up with his urge for movement and speed. Pierre ran carelessly through streets and across traffic lights. He didn't care. After a car had to brake hard to avoid hitting him, the driver leaned out of the window and shouted that he was dirt and he hoped someone would hit him next time. Only there wouldn't be a next time, Pierre thought.
As he ran, many memories of his life came back to him. Mostly bad ones, but also a few good ones. He was particularly fond of his childhood. He remembered how his mother brought him a toy car, which looked different to the ones on the local roads, after one of her countless business trips. Then he thought about how often she wasn't there. He thought of all the humiliations he had suffered. But he smiled now. Those memories no longer hurt because he had found meaning in them. Everything had led him here. To the solution to his problems.
The bridge pillars appeared in Pierre's field of sight as he turned around a corner. The tips of the pillars were shrouded in a low-hanging cloud, but the tower lights flashing at regular intervals gave a hint of the gigantic height of the pillars. A life was to end here. Pierre wanted to get to the middle of the bridge. As soon as he took the first step onto the bridge, he was overtaken by a strange calm. He walked across the concrete floor like over a red carpet. Self-confident, mighty as if his steps had meaning and majestically, he celebrated every step. The last walk. He had everything under control. The time, the place, the method. It was his work, his signature, his private moment. He enjoyed his own attention. Then he noticed a silhouette.