I think if I could be anywhere right now…I’d be standing alone on a rocky overhang, toes curled trepidatiously over the edge, preparing to plummet into water as dark and glossy as silk.
There would be no rush. I’d take advantage of my hyper-awareness, reveling in the sensuality of the wind as it kissed the nape of my neck. I’d breathe in the fragrance of fresh water, breathe out all things toxic. Perhaps I’d do this until I was filled to the brim with pure, untainted oxygen.
I’d try to immortalize that anticipatory feeling. That indescribable sense of power, vitality, freedom. Of timelessness.
And then–with my heart beating thickly in my chest–I’d spread my arms, and fall.
Can you imagine the adrenaline rush? Transforming veins into live wire, fingertips and toes sizzling with electricity. Every atom screaming with life; not a single cell left unconscious, if only for a few fleeting seconds.
Gray sky, murky depths. Everything blurred together, like paint blended on a palette. Shrieking, hissing, biting wind: no longer a lover, but an enemy.
It must feel incredible, to relinquish everything to gravity like that. To hurtle deliriously toward a liquid abyss, a flailing bundle of flesh and blood and joy and fear. Of humanity. To challenge the transience of existence with one act of senseless bravery.
And then AND THEN the collision! The pressure! The air, ripped from lungs! No time to think. Just a velvety heaviness, every which way.
The cold, so pure and overwhelming and utterly heartbreaking. The immense darkness, paralleled only by the darkness that exists within the womb that surrounds a fetus.
There would be a moment, multiple moments, of chaos–possibly panic. And then a resurgence of instinct, a cluster of kicks in the right direction. Finally: blinded, resurfaced. Triumphant.
Glowing. Effervescent. Reborn.