A diary about the other side of moving abroad

While the world was slowly embraced by the darkness and the strong embrace smothered the last rays of sunlight, Pierre sat motionless in his armchair. He thought of the humiliations in his life, sparks of hope, of special and especially terrible people. The abandonment of his house roared in his ears. Even here he felt out of place. He couldn't find a place to retreat where he felt safe. Neither inside himself nor outside. His thoughts circled. They revolved around the why. Why did everything happen like this? Why was he alone? Why was he here? This last thought occupied his mind more and more often. It was difficult for him that the hope of an improvement of his situation was so far ahead. Would he be able to hold out until then? Over the last few nights, he often felt faint. He was close to giving up. He noticed how his will and resilience faded with the last rays of the day and how he fell into a lethargy in which nothing was of any value to him. Whether he lived on or not seemed arbitrary to him. He couldn't gather any positive arguments to keep on going. And for whom? Claire? It was pointless. The only thing that gave him a reason to rejoice was to imagine how people would come to his funeral in hypocrisy. How they cried in shock and said he had been such a good guy. They would have never thought he would do this. And the prospect of passing on his “why” question to posterity also delighted him. Pierre made a decision. Tonight it had to be done. It had to end as soon as possible.
Relieved to have finally made up his mind, he swung out of the armchair with renewed energy. He no longer needed to save this energy, he could use it all up and waste it. But where should he do it? At home? Or outside? Then he remembered. The bridge. The hostile, cold maw that swallowed everything that came too close to it had long fascinated and attracted but also deterred him. Now it seemed to him like a cold welcome.
Pierre applied the remains of a scented water, watered the flowers, scribbled a note on a piece of paper lying around, grabbed his jacket and slipped out of the front door into the freezing cold of the night.