so finally, after several years of attaching a thousand parachutes on myself, i am ready to make the jump.
am i happy?
i can’t tell.
i am excited that’s for sure.
there’s really no guarantee if i’ll make it though.
i’ll jump off with eyes closed.
i am terribly afraid of heights.
the more i see the vastness of space and land extending it’s arms to embrace me, the more i feel my heart sinking.
sinking to unknown depths of my soul,
drowning itself in the comforts of the unknown.
those places where my strongest memories hide,
like sunken pirate ships filled with treasures.
what if my thousand parachutes are all dysfunctional?
do i really have the faith that there will always be one to open for me?
will there be one in that thousand?