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”, I never knew it was going to be

thirty-thousand feet from where I’d fall.

I went numb in that weightless air. A part of me will always be

cold. Never mistake preparations for experience. And

sometimes, it is vital to cry, less your well of warmth be

frozen in these shifting winds.