Jump!

Have you ever stood at the edge of a cliff, poised to that that step forward?

cliff-jump-fall-girl-dance-1

 

Have you ever stood at the edge of a cliff, poised to take that step forward, wanting to plunge into the magnificent blue ocean below. It beckons to you, the ocean, with its never ending vastness and the sun bouncing off its surface, leaving stars in its wake. Have you ever stood at that cliff until your desire to jump becomes a chant in your head – “Jump. Jump. Jump.” – and you want to. So bad. Especially because even amidst the deafening roar of the water and the voices in your head coming from all sides, even then, you can differentiate the voice that spins your desire, urging you on. Coaxing you into the beautiful water. Enticing you with the feeling you get from its nearness, standing on that cliff, poised to take that step forward and above all, wanting it too.
The thing about the ocean is, It’s deep and deadly, full of hidden secrets. For a few seconds there, you’re buoyant and floating, happy with the feeling. Then, you sink. The water pulls you below, until it surrounds you and it’s all you can see. You loose control over your own limbs and all you can do is gasp and flail for all that its worth. It’s everywhere. Burning in your throat, filling your lungs, pressing your limbs down. You struggle to stay afloat but the way to the surface seems impossible to cover. There comes a point that you can’t even remember what it was like to feel actual air in your lungs, to see without the itchiness in your eyes, to hear anything other than the roar of pressure in your ears. It builds up until you give up, you give up and the ocean lets you fall. It lets you fall and buries you in its store of treasures, or of ruins. Another one that fell for its calm demeanor above, for the feeling it made them feel. Another casualty of blind, hopeful faith.
So, have you stood at the edge of a cliff, poised to take that step forward, wanting to plunge. Have you stood at the edge of a cliff until your desire to jump becomes a chant in your head. When you do, and darling, one day yes you will; Don’t.

Believed?

9744d89e9b90ab486f92a7106fd25628
The first time you told me you loved me, I didn’t even know what that meant. For me, it was safety and cuddles and someone who’d get me chocolates when I scraped my knees and give me their toys when I got tired of mine. I was the girl dancing, with big eyes and stars within; And, I believed you.

Fast forward a few years on, too fast we discover death together. We grow up, we lose our best friend. The world is an abstract of emotions, fleeting. So much so, that the only thing that seems familiar, seems safe, is you. You tell me you love me, even through my hysterics and sedatives, even as scared as you were yourself. Barely a boy; But, I believed you.
download (1)

 

The year you left, I remember staring up at the night sky, a budding teenager desperately searching for answers beyond her age. Even then, I remember hearing your voice through the haze surrounding me. Even then I remember the conviction of the thought that you were out battling demons and that you were one who’d come back at least. Barely a memory; Still, I believed you.

 

I hadn’t cried for two days even amidst all the others mourning. You didn’t have to do anything, just sit by my side to let me lower my walls, to let me break down. You were shaking even as you tried to grip me, as if you could physically pull all the pieces together. You were silent even as you saw me suddenly smile and smooth my face over no matter how disapproving the look on your own face. Your eyes told me stories of galaxies of refuge, of strength and reluctant pride. Barely a feeling; Though, I believed you.

 

When I first read The Notebook, you were Noah for me. I should have realized then that we were doomed. When you told me you loved me, I laughed. You told me again, and I started thinking ‘maybe’. Come eighth time and slowly, I let myself love you. Let myself listen to you. Let myself acknowledge what you could be to me. Barely a thought; However, I believed you.

 

4150a6031411e3c8154e2e9b256a23c7
xx

 

They thought we were too perfect for such young an age.
Nice now meant giving too much, a noose around your neck. Forever sort of love sounded like you were suffocating.
Your friends wanted you to be there on the other side smoking pot instead of entertaining the wide eyed girl with her irrational love for ice cream.
Your breath now stank of iridescent lies and dangerous highs.

 

The last time you told me you loved me; I stopped believing in love.