When I was younger I understood what death was, that everyone ages, everyone dies.
I always felt protected from being hurt because I knew I was helpless against time. It’s
not my fault and there is nothing I can do. I raised my white flag and accepted this one
sided fate—replacing my emotions with logic. I replaced letting it out for a cushion to
fall on. But that cushion, no matter how thickly I layered it with sound
‘understanding’, was always waiting thirty-thousand feet below where I fell.

I went numb in that weightless air. A part of me remains cold. Never mistake

preparations for experience. And sometimes it is vital to cry—’less your well of warmth
be frozen in these shifting winds.