a few times before, i have stood over the edge of a building’s rooftop and stared at the ground several floors away from me. i would imagine myself taking one more step towards that fall. in a breath i would turn my back to the street and face the sky. i would be smiling, i’m sure, guessing at what precise moment my body would hit the pavement. the clouds would stare back at me and shift shapes. the light would be blinding, perhaps. i would be falling to make my way to that sky. and when my body shatters on hard earth, that’s when true flight begins. i imagine it now, it makes my insides turn and my hairs stand on end. the rush of the air is real.
there is no particular reason for this. no, i have no broken heart nor a stagnant career. i have quite a fulfilling life, i would say. it is not the end result that is death that i seek. it would be counter-productive. it is just the rush, the jump, the turn, the drop. it is just utter curiosity for what it feels like to step over the edge and fall with utmost uncertainty. and fall without knowing when it will actually end. it must be quite a thrill. surely quite a thrill.