I could jump.I could jump, slip into the sea, and I could leave it all behind. There isn't even anyone to miss me anymore.
Can I tell you about it? The story of how I ended up here on this rock, staring into the sea below? I've heard it helps sometimes.... the telling. I'm just not sure whether I want it to help me get off onto the shore... or down into the water.
It begins simply, as I imagine most stories do. We just go about our lives, not expecting that anything extraordinary is about to happen. Maybe that's our problem - the not-expecting. It takes us so completely by surprise when it does happen that we get swept up in it before we can blink... or sometimes don't even know it's happening until it's too late to change it. Too late to go back.
We can never go back.
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