(no subject)
One theory that you learn in physics is that things dropped at the same time, at the same height will hit the ground at the same time. That means I can drop my watch and a bowling ball from the top of a ladder, and I wouldn't have to wrack my brain on trying to figure out which would hit the ground first. This means that I can throw myself and whoever tries to rescue me off the top of this building, and not worry about having to see the look of pain on my forced companion's face. I wouldn't want to form something resembling regret in the seconds that follow, while I wait for the smack of the pavement knocks some sense into me.
Or some consciousness out of me. Whichever comes first.
So with this theory that I learned in some high school course. Conceptual physics. Physical Science. Whatever. I'm staring down at the pavement some twenty stories below and musing at how the people look so small. The cars make it look like I'm stuck to the board of a giant game of life. Red, yellow, green. They're passing by with small blue and pink anatomically incorrect passengers inside.
Life tiles are being passed out right and left. Win Nobel Peace Prize, have a baby, hit your first life crisis and climb to the top of the nearest building and wonder how much it would hurt to take one more step.
Jessica always told me that the game of life was something that no one really wanted to become reality. No one wanted a secure job or home. Not for real. These were just things we pretended to want, so that we seemed normal.
No one wants the American dream, what we want is turmoil. We as human beings thrive from conflict and unsureness. It's why natural instincts and adrenaline kick in when we're in danger.
No one wants to be secure. We just want freedom.
My heart is racing and my breathing is anything but slow and steady. The wind this far up, it's threatening to make my choice soon, if I don't. And me, I'm thinking about Jessica. In my head she's stuck in her most glorious of moments. The time where I adored her most. The moment that marked my complete and utter devotion to her before she pulled the rug out under my feet. The darkest moment before dawn of enlightenment approaches.
In my head, she's wrapping the dental floss around the tip of her finger again and again as the tip changes colours.
She's talking, but by now her words are so far lost in my mind that it sounds like listening to a whisper above the static of a television on full blast.
And she's wrapped the Johnson and Johnson Whitening mint floss around the top of her index finger so tightly that even I realize that it can't be healthy.
The life cars continue to pass under me, their plastic human replicas going about their day, and I finally take the step forward.
There ceases to be ledge beneath my feet, I can't help but feel panic surge through my body.
And in my mind's eye, Jessica is unwrapping the floss, her finger is quickly regaining it's original colour.
But most of all, it's constraints are gone, they're of no consequence to the single index digit any longer.
And Jessica, she's looking down and she says,
"What's it like to be free?"
Or some consciousness out of me. Whichever comes first.
So with this theory that I learned in some high school course. Conceptual physics. Physical Science. Whatever. I'm staring down at the pavement some twenty stories below and musing at how the people look so small. The cars make it look like I'm stuck to the board of a giant game of life. Red, yellow, green. They're passing by with small blue and pink anatomically incorrect passengers inside.
Life tiles are being passed out right and left. Win Nobel Peace Prize, have a baby, hit your first life crisis and climb to the top of the nearest building and wonder how much it would hurt to take one more step.
Jessica always told me that the game of life was something that no one really wanted to become reality. No one wanted a secure job or home. Not for real. These were just things we pretended to want, so that we seemed normal.
No one wants the American dream, what we want is turmoil. We as human beings thrive from conflict and unsureness. It's why natural instincts and adrenaline kick in when we're in danger.
No one wants to be secure. We just want freedom.
My heart is racing and my breathing is anything but slow and steady. The wind this far up, it's threatening to make my choice soon, if I don't. And me, I'm thinking about Jessica. In my head she's stuck in her most glorious of moments. The time where I adored her most. The moment that marked my complete and utter devotion to her before she pulled the rug out under my feet. The darkest moment before dawn of enlightenment approaches.
In my head, she's wrapping the dental floss around the tip of her finger again and again as the tip changes colours.
She's talking, but by now her words are so far lost in my mind that it sounds like listening to a whisper above the static of a television on full blast.
And she's wrapped the Johnson and Johnson Whitening mint floss around the top of her index finger so tightly that even I realize that it can't be healthy.
The life cars continue to pass under me, their plastic human replicas going about their day, and I finally take the step forward.
There ceases to be ledge beneath my feet, I can't help but feel panic surge through my body.
And in my mind's eye, Jessica is unwrapping the floss, her finger is quickly regaining it's original colour.
But most of all, it's constraints are gone, they're of no consequence to the single index digit any longer.
And Jessica, she's looking down and she says,
"What's it like to be free?"