Ficly

On a High Note

Every day when I was a kid, I would go to that same cliff and look over.

Call it morbid fascination, but I couldn’t help thinking about bouncing off each crag and jutting rock. I wondered what it would feel like to bounce as I fell. Would I be caught upon the face, or would I make it into the ocean? Would the water be relieving, washing away the rocks? Would it sting me, get inside me, take me from the inside out? Would I lie awake in the water and look up at the sun, or would it be blue all the way down?

I went back to that cliff after I dropped out of high school. I went back when my dad died, when I lost the apartment, when I got diagnosed. I went back and thought about the water, how it feels after all those rocks.

Things are different now. I’ve got a fiance, a good job. The cancer is in recession. Things are looking up – everyone always tells me how lucky I am, how things really do turn out right.

I think I’m going back to the cliff, one last time.

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