Falling, a.k.a. The Unbearably Stupid in More Ways Than One Entry

Friday, February 19, 2010

I am standing on a cliff. Alone.

I felt the soft, gentle wind around me, whispering songs like a mother’s gentle lullabye. It embraced me and I felt strangely comforted. Safe. Suddenly I remembered that she was not here with me, and the illusion was lost.

I am standing on a cliff. Alone.

I stepped out further into the edge, and I saw white foams forming where the waves crashed into the rocks. The rhythmic pattern was a breathtaking sight. I turned around, wanting to share what I saw to her. She was not there.

I am standing on a cliff. Alone.



I stepped back a bit and slowly sat on a smooth part of a solitary boulder near a tree. She was not here. She has not been here in a long time. I tried desperately to recall the last time I saw her, but all I could come up with were hazy recollections that were neither here nor there. She was not here, I repeated to myself. She never was.

I was sitting (standing) on a cliff. Alone.

I slowly stood up, brushing the dust off my faded jeans. I started towards the edge again. The wind was still singing its soft melodies, the magnificent waves chiming in unison. But she was not here, and it all felt empty and unimportant. I closed my eyes, and a split-second later I felt my feet leave the ground.

Wind. Water. It was all there. But she was not.

I am falling off a cliff. Alone.

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