jump.

It sucks the breath from your lungs and the words from your lips. It acts as a catalyst to the the entropy occurring within your mind; it weaves your thoughts into a jumbled mess of knots and pushes you to the brink of insanity. And as you stand with your toes on the ledge, you're forced to make a decision-- will you turn your head away from the great unknown and retreat back into the comfort of being what you've always been and doing what you've always done? Or will you scrunch up your toes and close your eyes and inhale the crisp of the calm autumn air in the last moment of peace just before the storm?

You know that if you jump you will never be able to work your way back to where your feet are planted in this exact moment; but is this where you've always wanted to be or is this merely a stepping stone in your journey? Your lungs are screaming and you exhale-- you know what you want but your legs won't seem to listen, so you bite your bottom lip and taste yet another deep breath of the earth's atmosphere. 

And somehow, you find the courage. Your knees bend and your legs push you forwards-- outwards. You spread your arms as if they are wings and accept the fact that you won't know the consequences they are staring you in the face with their sharp teeth bared and their fiery eyes burning. You're allowing yourself to fall and hoping, all the way down, that someone will find enough courage to catch you before you hit the ground. 

I think that's what love is like. 

You know, standing on the edge of insanity.

And you can't truly fall until you finally decide to jump.