When I was nine years old, my daddy once said,
"You have control of your choices, but you don't have control over the consequences."
This year has brought those words to life. Breathing in that freedom air deep into the core of my body. Stepping closer to the edge of the cliff, teasing the water below with hopes I'm going to say yes to adrenaline and say no to the caution. I took your hand, looked into your eyes, receiving a glimpse into my future. Into our future. We will leap. And fall. And hit. But it's okay because you will hold my hand the entire way down.
Ignoring the words of my loved ones, saying to them,
"This is my life. I get to choose how I live it."
And so I jumped. And fell. And hit.
Any you... didn't.
Okay stop.
This story is just as pathetic as the rest of them. And I want to see a happy ending just as much as the last girl did. But that's the thing about this life. There are rarely happy endings. At least not yet.
So do me a favor and stop complaining about your irritated eye. Or you selfish jealousy. Because you, my dear, are just one more wall blocking my way to a desolate place. A place where I can forget about the pressure taking away the sound of my heartbeat.
Something other than this credential life.
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