#im sick and having real weird fever dreams about formative memories i guess

[emathevampire]

when i was a kid. about 10 or so. i went on a walking trip for school in the summer.

at the kent downs, we stopped. did anyone want to look over the cliff?

the teachers sat at the edge and we were allowed to approach one at a time on our hands and knees, and they held on to us, squished us into the grass with their hands on our backs, so we could lie down with our elbows pressed to our ribs and look over the edge. hang our heads straight off the drop and look down at the rocks below.

and i did. i looked. and it would have been so, so easy to struggle. to fall. to take them all down with me. and worst of all i wanted to do it.

the only reason i didn’t? was because i wanted to wait until i was 13. it would be more poetic that way. dramatic, at least. they’d remember me for it.

we moved back to america before i turned 13, so i never got the chance. not that i didn’t stop thinking about it, but there aren’t any cliffs in florida.

even now, it’s still one of the only things that keeps me from the edge. i missed my shot to be poetic with the number. it would just be a waste now. the cliffs still call my name, when we meet again from time to time. but i shake my head at them, like they’re an old lover, which i’ve likewise learned it’s best to ignore in spite of the longing.

it would have been a beautiful moment. but the moment’s passed, hasn’t it?

31 just doesn’t have the same appeal.