Let’s just say I’m falling now, every body falls, fall at the right place, fall at the wrong ground,it’s either you fall and something soft hits you.., like love, or someone, or you hit something solid, much like red bricks on the sidewalk.. Like truth, your truth, mine… The world.
We are all cliff hangers, who all walked towards that corner, that edge we all know to be spellbound by gravity and more. We all come back to refresh our long dead dignities, our torn out selves, our destroyed hearts, and lost dreams.
Despite the fact that what borders those different facets of happiness are lies, danger and heartbreaks, we all still come back to risk that chance of glee, those chances of positive sighs and those memory worthy whiles to the dark and apparent chances of falling.
Right at the tip of that cliff, we remember those beautiful times, beautiful in every sense of the word against the bitter truth that poses harm to the nearly fallen dare devils. Dare devils in the sense that we try our hardest to reach that place for meaningful sunrises, for never ending sunsets, for breath taking scenes and what have you.
These are times you call yourself strong; these are times you call yourself wicked.
These are times, when most people tell you, don’t.
I am not in confusion with the facts of danger aligned along the very things that cause me to stay at the very cliff of cliffs. Anyhow, these things wouldn’t possess their importance if not for the truth that sets them apart from the safe shores or the less difficult treks. They are what they are, dangerous, yet fulfilling in a way.
I’m not justifying the dangers, I’m simply telling you what most cliff hangers say.
It’s worth the danger. Nobody said you couldn’t fall, nobody said nobody has ever fallen.
Yet now I fall. Fallen hard, in broken pieces you can never count, nor put together the same way.
For some reason, it teaches you not to go that far or that close. But we all do. Sometimes when you go somewhere or some place where every now and then presents you loops, heights and steps, there’s not much decision to make. You end up putting them aside and continue; even the vivid signs of pain and much more.
And now I’m in a place most cliff hangers don’t want to be at, looking up from below, the cliff I chose to stand on. Deep in the heart of pain, in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere which can only be described as the place once below the cliff. Not exactly the best place to be at, nor the best place to call heaven.
Typically, most cliff hangers embark on a walk to either go back up, climb the hard rocky wall, or dare to go near another spellbound cliff but for the cliff hanger who calls this painful enough; this cliff hanger’s next decision shall now depend on the next time somebody promises a lighter fall.
He shall not be called coward, he dared, he shall be called the fallen, too broken to climb, stayed too long hanging, fell the hardest, bleeding the most, still spellbound, never scared. Just now.
As the cliff exist, you must now that you did not push him to fall, he got too weak to hang on, the story goes, the fact is, it’s neither the cliff nor you who shared the cliff sent him below, he just hanged to long, he always knew he’d hang somewhere, some time just not how long. And so he let go, he fell.
