She was a risk-taker, incomprehensible, always running and running and moving faster than anyone could ever hope to understand. She was wild and free and this life, this dull, boring, monotone life couldn’t ever hope to contain her.
There was something strange about her, something electric and impulsive that fried your nerves and robbed you of your common sense as you watched her, leaping and twirling and running and falling.
No one quite understood. No one quite tried to understand either. I wonder if she even understood herself, but she must’ve had a reason. I know she had a reason.
Because there she had been, standing on the edge of a hundred foot tall skyscraper that was just another insignificant peak of the New York skyline. There she had been, looking down, lights like inverted stars above a bustling sea of people, a moving mass of colored ants. There she had been, smiling and standing and leaning too far over the edge to be considered safe and whispering, “You feel it too, don’t you? This pull?”
Perhaps there was something that could’ve saved her. Perhaps that “something” could’ve been me. But it’s too late to think of that now, much too late. Not when I feel this calling too.
Link to image here.