And with the help of my nonexistent parachute, my body kissed the ground–hard. Blood and flesh everywhere. Belated Happy Halloween.
Ah, 2 entries in a year. I write less when a lot happens. I hoard feelings, I hoard stories like I hoard movie tickets and receipts. When something bad happens to me, it would take a long time before I can share them. Looking back, I think it’s a mechanism I unconsciously embraced as I grew up. I share the good stuff, the ones everybody would be delighted to hear, like that one time I got chosen to play the main character in a story, everyone was so supportive. The bad stuff—ugh, they’re all mine. I keep them with me until they no longer hurt, only then can I share them (which almost doesn’t ever happen).
There are days when I don’t want to go against the force of gravity. I’d like to hop on a plane and jump when I’m high enough to touch the clouds.