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‘Chute Me Down


There’s nothing that compares to the first.

In friendships, relationships alike.

The ones that make your heart pump and feel every rush of blood work through your body. A feeling of internal word-less pep talk before that favorite ride that scares the crap out of you.

The feeling of meeting someone, the first night in, the causality in conversation before insecurely fearing your heart becoming just that.

The moments that I like to coin as giving you “all the feels.” Those encounters to hold onto as pedestals forever. Any future comings to fall short of that set bar to throw a wrench in every once thoughtless action.

To a point where finally it feels like life is loving you back. Finally placing ones that without a doubt just want you without having to sing it from their esophagus.

Filling my life with such headfirst courage. It is like life took a fresh breath of me. With every exhale, I was ready for anything.

Starting with the rush from the back of the popped “wheelie,” forcefully tasting strands of my baby hairs; hugging onto my trusted lead foot.

On top of the world like never before. But why is there to fear except everything itself? Once I was secured, I feared most. The fear to something good. The fear to being happy. The fear to accepting the love in which I so badly deserve.

“Drop me out of the highest planes, quit that job, and move to Bali.”

The fear was never to anyone leaving, but to actually staying.

You really mean it?

Ah, of course you don’t.

Yes, I didn’t stutter.

No return flight, please.


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