It’s been said, that “you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.” Might I add, you also don’t appreciate what you have until you’re grasping for it. It’s like reaching out for a fragile twig, hanging by the mountain side, from which you’ve just jumped, full force and willfully. Somehow, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Right up until logic sets in and you realize hitting bottom is going to hurt and there is nothing to break your fall.
But on the way down you enjoy the rush; you experience the feel of the wind on your face, like it’s never been felt before. You had the guts to take the leap, and on the verge of disaster, for a moment, you’re somehow more alive than you’ve ever been. At the last moment logic sets in. You’re falling, fast. So you grasp for anything you can, hoping it’s not too late, to undo. You grasp for a limb. It may not catch you at this point. It may only slow your fall from grace, but it’s your only chance. You take the limb.
You’ve been teased by a thrill you know you can never, will never, feel again. Probability was on your side this time, in only a way that Pascal himself could wager. While your risks have always been calculated, this time you miscalculated. The margin of error is great.
I’m hanging on a limb. On one side of a closed door, I fear for what could be lost. When the door opens, pushing air against my face, reminiscent, like the plunge from the mountain, memories flood. In one room, there exist many hues of emotion. Open or shut, that door is still the same, my want intertwined with my fear.
Yet, what I fear the most is failure, mediocrity and lack of achievement. So, I’m glued to my reason, pasted to my logic, and while at times, the adhesive wears, allowing myself to tear away from all that matters most, it’s not long before I realize that the glue is part of who I am. The adhesive is essential. Without it, I’m like loose papers caught in the wind. While mildly entertaining for a moment, the papers blow, just out of reach, until a vexed state sets in. You give up; you let the paper blow away. You hold to what you know. .
