Falling
I know why they call it falling. Falling head over heels. Falling for someone. Because before you fall you’re unsteady, and as you’re falling you’re scared to death and when you’ve fallen you lose all control. And when it’s over, when you hit the ground, you’re either the luckiest person in the world for surviving the ordeal, or you’re broken, shattered.
When your friends see you headed to the edge, they warn you. Be careful. Slow down. Or they push you. “Oh, go on. It’s about time you took a leap.” Leap…leap…leap…. echoes after you on the way down.
I know why they call it falling. Falling apart. Falling in love. It’s a gamble – which way you land. On your feet? On your own? Into a safety net of friends? Into the arms of the one you love? Into the depths of despair?
Jumping into love knowing the risks of falling is scary as hell. And some would question the risks and the rewards. I know I do. Every single time.
