Falling

Falling.
It should be easy. But it’s not.
Not when the reason you’re falling may not be falling back.
But what can you do? Nothing really.
You hope there’s something but…you’re not sure if there will be.
Or maybe there is…it just hasn’t been brought to light. You don’t know.
It’s hard not knowing, especially when you always do.
So you sit there and wait. And wait. And wait.
But…nothing.
Then, all of a sudden, there’s something.
Something great. Something magical. Something that makes you realize your hope was not false. You’re happy. You’re content. You’re safe.
Then just as quickly as there’s something, there’s nothing again.
Why?
Because it’s easy? Because there’s no fault? No expectations? No commitment?
No nothing.
But why?
Why not take the risk? Why not try?
And not just try, but really try.
Try to where you know you gave it your all.
Try to where you know whether it’s right or wrong.
That’s when a decision should be made – a conclusion met; an agreement.
But instead, there’s just falling.
Not the kind when there’s arms welcoming you.
Not the kind where you don’t care how hard the impact is.
The kind when you know you’re falling into nothing.
There are no arms.
There’s no impact.
There’s just nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing to fall into and nothing to do about it.
So you sit there and wait. And wait. And wait.
But…nothing.
Maybe the hope is false.
You’re happy but not as much as you could be.
You’re not content.
You don’t feel as safe.
You just feel empty.
You’re falling because you’re falling.
And the impact?
It’s hard. It’s really hard.
But not in the way you’re expecting or wanting.
It’s hard because you’re alone.
It sucks.
You wish you weren’t falling.
You try not to.
But you can’t stop…because you’re already in too deep.
And you can’t get out.
You wish you could freeze time.
Maybe then you’ll stop falling.
But then again, you’ll be stuck. Sitting in transit. Having nowhere to go.
Maybe you can try to climb.
So you try.
You think you’re getting higher.
Closer to being on your own two feet.
And right when you think you’re you again, you realize that you’ve been falling the whole time. 
Being on your feet is only a daydream.
Something countless shooting stars have tried to bail you out of.
But then you realize something.
You don’t want to get out.
You don’t want to stop falling.
Because even though it’s scary falling by yourself, you’re happy.
Because, for a moment, you realize that the reason you’re falling is a pretty good reason to be there. 
And it’s worth it.
So, so worth it.

Written May 2013
By Elisse Cook