I jumped off a bridge once for love.  It was a short bridge with a
little water down below so it didn't hurt much as just get me cold and
wet.  Some would read into that as a metafore for opening my heart up
a little. Some would even venture to view the bridge as the potential
risk of trusting another person and my jumping to signify my faith in
the other person.  Jumping off bridges isn't quite as bad as it's always
made out to be as long as you consider what below the bridge.  The
confusion in the metaphore comes when we try to figure out what the the
meaning of the landing was.  Since I was there, I know.  However, some
people associate jumping off bridges to be a possibly painful experience.
Just getting wet is a much better conclusion than losing one's life or
self or whatever.  Being cold after jumping off a bridge for love doesn't
sound pleasant, it's not supposed to.  Being cold in general usually
isn't pleasant, especially when it comes to love.  After examining this
metafore we ask ourselfs: why do we continually jump off these bridges
for love if we know we'll only either get hurt or end up cold and wet?
The truth of the matter is I really did jump off a bridge once, but it
was more for inspired lust than for love.  It was jealousy and rage and
bordem and just for the sake to say I'd jumped off a bridge before, even
if the bridge was only 4 feet high and I jumped into six inches of water
only to have to walk home in cold loafers on a chilly January morning at
3am.  I did jump off a bridge once for lust and it only left me cold and
wet.