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I wanted to fall today. I heard the darkness beckoning, felt its tug on me, inviting me down, down, down and I wanted to meet it. I imagined lying on my bed for days, wasting away in the dark, not lifting a finger to help myself, and some part of me yearned for it. Wanted it. Relished the idea of it like something sweet on my tongue. It felt like giving up. Like giving in. Like relief.

I wept instead. I called my mom and cried. I called my brother and cried. I used them to tether me and then I got up and forced myself to eat. I forced my body into motion. All the while wondering what it would be like. What would it be like to just let myself fall? Down, down, down. Swallowed up by darkness so complete it might as well be death.

I have carried this with me for as long as I can remember. It has felt at times like I was holding onto sanity by a string. As though if I opened my hand, if I let slip my control, I would decent into a madness from which I would never emerge. I have fought all this time to hold on. I fought some more today. With my tears, my phone calls, my food and my movement, I fought. I can’t help but wonder as I sit here now what it is that I’m winning, if I’m winning anything at all. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s enough.

Perhaps the only thing to do is let go and fall.