“It took a while to accept our fate
and all the chance it eliminates.
Once we did, there was nothing to pretend.”
This wasn’t the right way to start anything that would even resemble a healthy relationship. This certainly wasn’t the way to avoid becoming much too invested in something that was anything other than a safe bet. But what was I, an insurance policy? The risk, I’m convinced of it now, was part of everything that motivated me forward. I jumped into that dark and uncertain abyss of the unknown head first. What was I thinking? I hear that a lot. It’s simple. I wasn’t.
After all, who would possibly have the time to think, with his face collapsing into a perfect smile in such close proximity? Who would have room in their brain to consider the losses when that same brain was now struggling to comprehend the brilliance in his eyes staring back at you, glinting like the blessed Autumn daylight? I ask you, who could even fathom the concept of any kind of thought that would separate you from this total and complete rarity? The person with this ability may exist. But this person wasn’t me.
I’ve heard countless people talking about “falling.” They say things like, “OMG, I couldn’t even control it, I just fell for him.” I can understand the falling part, but, for me, this falling didn’t come until after the initial jump. Not just a jump, a plunge. You may wonder what the difference is. The difference between falling and plunging is the participant’s awareness of their participation in either event. The one who falls, simply falls. Just like you would if you stepped off of a high cliff and didn’t realize it was there beforehand. This faller has no idea that they’re about to fall; it is out of their control. The plunger is the opposite. The plunger sees that cliff coming a mile back. The plunger continues on, embracing the ledge. The plunger is eager to feel that air she will be moving through so quickly on her face as soon as possible. The plunger is an idiot.
It really isn’t the ending of being so caught up in another person that is the saddest part. That’s what everyone seems to think though, when you’re finally forced to surrender to the reality of it all. This person you saw as so much, as it turns out, doesn’t quite value you to the same degree. This ending part, where they don’t feel the same, this is the part everyone talks about. This is the part that all of the pop stars and country singers (as if there is any difference) write their songs that pollute public places about. This is the part that everyone sees as the “crusher,” the “kicker,” the “heart-wrencher.” But I disagree.
The part that gets to me, and continues to get to me, to eat at me, to bury itself deeply inside of me and fester and infect until my head explodes, is the beginning. Oh, that blessed beginning. When every thought you had lead back to that person, and you felt really great about that, because you felt that it was the same way for them concerning you. Hours spent, talking the whole world over, then doing it again. Did you have something more important to do? Absolutely. Did he? Without a doubt. Did either of you really care? Not in the least. There is that beginning with these certain individuals who seem to take a very vital piece of you captive within themselves with one glance. It is not a small matter. This event is one that defines you, that leaves you a different person than you were before. It is irreversible, and unavoidable after a certain point. The sad part of it, for me, is that I ever let this happen.
Those who fall aren’t aware that this point of no return even exists. The plungers absolutely do. While you’re lost in the eyes, in the humor, and in the way that it genuinely seems that you’re wanted around, it’s happening. You’re losing yourself. You’re lost. It isn’t funny when you jump off a cliff, and, while you’re falling, say, “just kidding!” Why? Because jumping off isn’t something you can take back. It isn’t a joke. This is you, and you’ve lost your control. This is you, and you’re gaining speed.