The cliff.

You have been walking all your life, and you aren't even aware there's anything else besides these roads. You hear stories of people who find themselves at the edge of unknown places. Strange and haunted paths even. You scoff, that's crazy. And then one day you stumble, and you stumble a little more. And you find yourself at the edge of a cliff. You've never been here before. This wasn't supposed to happen to you. You can't keep walking; the path is over, you see. The path you came in is gone, leaving nothing but darkness in front of you. But you're not courageous enough for the jump, either. So you spend a few years loitering around the edge, wondering where to go and what to do from here. 

One day, you wake up, and you’re holding onto dear life, dangling at the edge by a rope, oblivion below you. You can't even remember how you got here. Maybe this is where you've been your whole life. You can't tell. You don't know anymore. Eventually, you spend a few more years dangling near the pit, holding onto dear life. Some days you can't remember why you're holding on, you forget why. But it's become a habit. Who knows what's down there anyway? Why let go when you know everything this cliff has to offer? 

Now you decide. You can't stay here forever. Up or down, to let go or to hold on, to be or not to be, you must decide. You decide to try climbing. If you falter, well, you can give up. But you don't falter. That’s what surprises you.

The trek up is harder. Each climb up the road is the most effort you've ever put in. Your hands burn, your legs ache, but you feel good. You feel something after so long. When did you stop feeling? Was it before the roads or after the cliff? You can't remember. You reach back where you started, the edge of that damn cliff. You can't see the roads. But at least you're not dangling anymore. Shouldn't that count for something? Standing feels foreign. You haven't done this in forever. Walking back feels scary. What if it's all changed? Do those old roads even exist anymore? But you focus on one step. And then the next.

It’s still darkness around you. But you keep walking. You imagine it has to lead somewhere. Then, you see the old roads. They're all a little different, more crooked and slanted than you remember, but you don't mind. You walk, and you keep walking. You don't know the destination, but you hope you'll find it along the way. Familiar faces appear, the flowers have bloomed, and a comforting hand intertwines with yours along the way. Was the sun always this bright? This is nice, you realize.

That doesn't mean you don't stumble. You do. You beg the one who holds your hand to let go. You don't want them to end up there in that place with you. When you fall, for a moment, you think you're at the edge again, but you open your eyes, and it's solid ground. You're okay. You're not back there. The hands you love still hold yours. They didn't leave. No one has left. You breathe out. It's okay. It's all okay. 

One step. And then the next.

Sometimes, you think you've pushed the cliff far away from you.

Far 

Far 

Away. 

“It's gone”, you tell yourself. It can't hurt you anymore. The roads become paved, the paths bloom with flowers, and the air changes. Or maybe you're the one who's changing. Some days, you even forget the cliff exists.

Alas, nothing is that simple.

Some days, you wake up screaming. Some days, you dream up an existence where you're still there. You dream about yourself, the you who made different choices. You see those infinite versions of yourself. You're haunted. But you wake up and see all you are in the hand that holds you, even in sleep, and you breathe out. It's okay. It's all going to be okay. 

Don't be fooled. The cliff is never gone. It's under you. It’s the blood in your veins. It's in the air you breathe. It's the ground you stand on. You learn to stand stronger, find your footing, and not look down. Eventually, you look down occasionally because it helps you walk forward stronger. Ignoring the cliff will not erase it, but maybe allowing it space might help. It's such a long road. Some days, you're tired. Why are you here? What is the point? You should've let go. You say such things to yourself. But when you look back, you can't see the cliff. It's out of sight. 

“Are you coming?” You hear. 

“Yes”, you take the hand that waits for you with a smile. 

And you walk. One step. And then the next.