I spoke about the hole. You don’t want to go back there, no one does. It should get better from here, it should be easier.
That was only the first hurdle in the invisible race we all run. The next event is the long jump.
First you lay down and you crawl to the edge. You peek over while keeping a firm grip on the edge. It’s the last piece of safety. It’s comfort, it’s known and it’s keeping you there and holding you back at the same time.
You can hear sounds from below but you don’t know what they are. Thick fog is below, it doesn’t rise or fall, it doesn’t clear for a glimpse. It’s either you go through it or you don’t. This is the edge.
You return from time to time, you stand now and slowly creep to the edge. It’s a shuffle, it’s safe. You know where you are while you look down into the unknown.
It still feels dangerous, it still feels unknown. It’s sometimes easier to not glimpse at all.
Sure you can stay on the edge, it will do for now. You can’t get off it though, there is a hole waiting. Sometimes you hear whispers from the hole, familiar thoughts you have learned to understand. What would carry you down there beckons, it calls to you. It wants you down there.
But, that’s not where your going. You know you must jump, you know you can’t take a rope or parachute. There is no safety after the edge.
The more you shuffle to the edge, the more the edge responds. The ground becomes weak or is it your knees? You close you eyes and hear a voice. It’s yourself. The internal dialogue, the engine that burns in your stomach and powers your thoughts. It wants more. It can’t live on the edge anymore.
In the distance you can hear laughter and a scream. The fog is low but in the distance you can see people on their own edge. You look left and right and now you can see people jumping. They were there all along.
You want to take that jump, but you want it to be right. You go to the edge, and you take one step.
You take that first step in the unknown.