WHAT IS NOT

Now I know I always come back. Nothing seems so bad anymore, knowing there’s always a bounce instead of a crash at the end of these falls.

Like I imagine it is to jump out of a plane that’s very high up. Terror in the beginning, yes. But then boredom. And after boredom, interest in the air around you and what you can see and what it is like to fall now that the fear and pain are commonplace.

So I’m sick with dread and a split head but really just thinking what is it for a head to split while I wait for everything to put itself back together and redeliver me to the paradise I can only stand for some time until the same effect takes over. Nothing is anything really, at least to you, until you make of what it isn’t.