Unknown

I fear the unknown. I do not fear heights or spiders, or death per se, but the uncertainty that they bring. I'm scared that over everything I've read, nothing will prepare me for what lies ahead.

I'm standing on a cliff overlooking a vast valley of green grass and wild flowers sporadic like that of nomads or pure happiness. I can't see what lies directly below the cliff but I don't care. The wind is soft upon my face, the silence is comfortable, and I take a running start off the edge. As I leaped over the edge, I'm frozen for a millisecond. I ponder what lead me here to the cliff. Was it fate? A seven year itch? Or is this simply all I've ever wanted? To fly and then to fall, and hope that whatever catches me wasn't fake promise. 

I spread out my arms and felt the warm light of a sunrise. Back on the cliff I was cold, frozen, but now I feel great. Slowly, I started to decline. I looked down to meet my end and instead saw clouds of varying degrees of plum or peach or coral looking back at me. It was as if the sky was inverted. And so I felt at peace, listlessly falling into a personal heaven. 

But as I hit the clouds, one hand out to part, I felt freezing cold water, and I sunk beneath the lake into cool blackness. And I kept diving, deeper, further, until I could no less see than feel. But my body was complacent and kept at it, going further beneath the clouds, into the inky, unsettling blackness that had filled my heart for so long. I twirled around in it; the cause of all great evil. It enveloped me, until I felt so cold it stung and I felt like I was burning. But I still didn't stop; until my bones connected with that of something solid. 

In the midst of all this, I reached through the dirt and rock and pushed and screamed losing the remaining air I had. 

And my hand reached through to open air and soft grass.