“I can feel the weight of these memories, so large that I can’t carry anything new into my tomorrows. At some point I have to make a choice, but I’m afraid that, even after all these years, I’m still going to choose anybody but me…”

Falling down takes time, and has layers, and can even appear beautiful. It’s sort of like a sunset on the beach in late September. It’s not truly autumn, so every evening is ushered in on the tail-end of a dying summer breeze. The light from the Sun plays games with that not so warm air, flickering more, almost dancing, as it descends onto the horizon. The space between the Sun and the Earth, the Earth and the sky, the skyline and the edge of our planet, stretched out across the deepest of blues reflected in the open Sea… For a brief moment, you can close one eye, and these vast distances and heavenly bodies all fit in the space between your thumb and index finger. 

But the moment is only that, a moment.

The Sun keeps on dancing as it slips over the edge of the world. The breeze keeps on twirling, the oceans are swirling, but it’s all beginning to fade into the background as the Moon and the stars take their positions. The transition is peaceful, poetic even, and I find so much comfort in this daily sight. The world ends every day without a fuss. It takes time, but it’s never in a rush. The Sun goes down as its own pace, and it manages to stay beautiful every step of the way. So maybe falling down isn’t such a bad thing after all, so long as we remember that falling down always comes with the opportunity to rise again.