I only wanted to call to say that I’m sorry, but I didn’t know what I’m supposed to be sorry for, and so I found myself saying goodbye before we ever had the chance to talk.

Have you ever found yourself leaning back in a chair so far that you fear you might just fall backwards and hit your head? Why lean so far back? Why keep pushing and pushing until you reach that ultimate tipping point, where gravity takes hold of you and forces you to accept physics as a thing, to realize you can only go so far backwards before you reach the ground? Of course this is simply a metaphor, a cheap attempt to try and explain to myself why I think I am failing. I want to think I was placed upon some great throne, a chair made of pure gold with jewels and rubies and other super valuable stones set in the back and sides and arm rests. Isn’t that how all humans are though? Don’t we all want to think that our lives are something more than mere coincidence? We want to think we are the masters of our fates, that we surely must be placed on this Earth for something more than just…just this, right? I’m not sure I ever was just like other people. I never felt okay with just..existing. Yet, I also didn’t feel worth the effort, worth striving to become something more. I think I was born on a simple wooden chair, and like an idiot true to nature, I rocked that chair back and forth until I reached a tipping point. Now, I could have fallen forward, right? Fallen where I could see the ground, fallen where I could put my hands out in front of me and catch myself before I hit, fallen where I could have saved myself and gotten back up, looked at my little broken chair, and just moved on, find another one, and start all over. So why did I let my final motion be backwards? Why did I take that final push to force me into a fall I couldn’t see, couldn’t save myself from?

~Because, when you know something is going to hurt, it is a cowards instinct to look away~