Once in a while, something has such an impact, such a dangerously shaking realization in your life, that the only reaction is to fall down and stay there for a while.
In the first part of the fall, you're absolutely horrified and have no idea what's going to happen next. You'll feel sickly and gross, and you'll cry a lot. You might start avoiding people.
But you can't run from it.
The second part of the fall is when you close yourself off and stop caring. Things that once seemed so important have dwindled down to insignificance. You might look peaceful, but inside there's a war going on in your heart and your mind.
The third part of the fall is a breakdown, plain and simple. You'll want to be nonexistent. To forget the world. Forget everything. You'll feel like you're alone, and you'll occasionally be a bit of a pain to everyone. You'll cry a lot. You'll be stressed to a breaking point. Your nerves will wear thin.
And, if you're like me, you'll simply pass out because you just can't handle it.
I haven't stopped falling yet, so I can't help you with that part. I can't say whether we bounce once we hit, or if we just hit and stay there spread-eagled on the ground. Or maybe the fall never really ends at all.
Besides. Everyone’s different.
Maybe someone else's fall only lasted a short period of time. Maybe someone hasn't even gotten past the first part yet. I guess it all depends.
"To love is to fly."
Yes, but what do you do when you've been falling for so long that you've forgotten how to? Or that you even had wings to begin with? Some people can just stop the fall and spread their wings and glide away to safety. Others flap and rise again.
Then there are those with complications. They have wings. They know how to fly. But they've been caged and tied due to certain problems of the heart.
There's hope for them.
They can escape.
But only if they find the strength to accept themselves and spread their wings. Then, the door will swing open and they can take off once again.
But, there are those like myself, who find themselves caged and unable to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Those who are afraid of the pain and the grief that they have to go through to be released. Who don't want to upset or lose the people they love to be free. To us, it just isn't worth it.
But then we end up hurting them by not giving them an explanation for our suffering.
People like us are on the fence. We want people to know, but we are horrified by the reactions that people might have. To some people, there is absolutely nothing wrong with it - it's normal.
But we feel a sense of guilt that we've let everyone down; that we've done something wrong.
That we've failed in some huge, horrible way.
That if we were to tell somebody, we may be shunned and looked at as though we're disgusting filth.
That our caregivers won't understand, and we might lose their love and gain their loathing. That we may be rejected by the very people who gave us life.
So many things.
And then... What will happen if the person you love finds someone else, and you've obviously not allowed to be together?
You simply burn away from the inside.
When they felt the same way at some point, but you were too late and now they've moved on?
When you want to give them the world, but you can't?
There's really nothing you can do about it but bide your time and hope it goes away.
And if it doesn't?
Well, my friend, we'll be going down together.
