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—i know they don’t want me to jump—

I have forever harbored inside me a fascination with edges.  

My first memories are of standing on a cliff, wanting oh so badly for it to crumble under my feet.  I saw a line separating earth and sky, and an urge rose in my chest to blur it.

This feeling of always being on the very tip of reality, wishing I could lose my balance and plummet, only intensified as I grew older.  I found such sweetness in thoughts of stepping over sidewalk cracks to plunge into a world with nowhere left to stand on.

At the same time I was afraid normal boys didn’t think of falling as I did, didn’t want its escape from the cold, rigid ground.  So I never mentioned it to anyone.  But I didn’t want to stop the desire blossoming inside me.  I feigned interest in hiking and went out looking for the highest places to lose myself.

—the throng is seething below, mindless chatter drifting up into my ears—i am not part of them—i have never been part of them—they are so many lives away—but i will join them now—

As a teenager, when my peers were dreaming of girls, I realized how unnatural my obsession was.  I fantasized about outcroppings of rock and their sharp edges the way my friends thought of female bodies and their subtle curves.  Although they set me up with various women, I found no comfort or desire in them.

The fear of being abnormal grew so strong it tore me apart.  In moments of immeasurable weakness I took myself to the edges I’d previously searched out with such glee and stared down below them.  I imagined myself wings.  There I prayed that when I took off my feathery delusions would carry me through the sky and away from here.

—everything is small and meaningless from this height—no one asks me to come down from my perch—they do not care for me—i am not part of them—they do not know that i hunger to join them in the very worst way—

I never jumped.  I was too afraid of myself for myself.

One day, in a fit of desperation, I hiked to the top of a favorite crag, thinking I would finally end it all.  But there I found below me a mass of people.  The park was having some kind of festival that drew hundreds.  I stared at the colorful streamers and booths, listening to the cacophony.

It made me scream.  My voice was weak; the people did not hear me.  They were too rooted in their world.  Loathing rose within me.  If I found my happiness in the faces of cliffs and the thoughts of plunging into nothingness, how was it different from their petty half-pleasures from being with others?  Who were they to think me a freak?  I possessed the wings but they wouldn’t give me the sky…

I leaned forward.

—they’re all blithely smiling—blithely singing—blithely dancing—there is no music for me—i don’t want to hear it—let me have my silence for a couple seconds—when you land there is pain but no noise—

As the heaven below met my hell above in a fantastic collision, I accidentally caught the eye of a boy.  No more than ten, he stared up at me, curious and innocent.  The child let go of his mother’s hand as I slowly lost my balance.  He extended his palm and curled his fingers forward, a solemn invitation.  And in that second I knew that even if I fell, I could never penetrate the people’s secrets and come into their world.

I collapsed to the ground.

—no one notices me fall apart—why must they shun me—i am no different than them—i will enter them—even when i breathe my last breath—i will use it to curse them—in just one moment—i’m almost ready but i am losing my grip on my edge—

Several years passed.  I pretended I hadn’t seen the boy but nevertheless did accept his welcome.  Putting on a masterful façade I entered society.  I supposedly fell in love but didn’t actually lose my footing.  Married and had children.  A small part of me still held onto the desire I’d kept behind the mask.  I took my kids to the top of cliffs to show them the view.  They weren’t interested.

—let me put a stop to this here and now—i promised myself the sky even if they say i cannot own it—if i strip off the disguise then i can walk boldly among their ranks—and they will never know i am fallen—

One day, past still vivid in my mind, I decided to visit the precipice again.  Tired and sweaty, I finally came to the ledge but found the ground below deserted.  They had left me.  They hadn’t ever been with me.

—i am about to let it all go so i can join them when i see his awestruck face—wondering what i am attempting—“giving up myself, little child, you will do it too one day”—he extends his hand and welcomes me—he shouldn’t welcome me—he knows i’ll never fly—

I threw my arms wide.  For just one moment, I soared into a life where I had never stood at the edge and the world took me in as one of its own.  So very high.

But one had to fall.  It was unavoidable.

—and they will never stop my descent—
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:iconpoetoffire:

Author's Comments

Catapedamania: the irrational obsession with jumping from high places.

Edit: A DD? I never dreamed...
Wow, thanks for everything. Now I have to decide how to answer all the messages in my inbox. You're all awesome.

Daily Deviation

Given 2009-01-30

The suggester thought Catapedamania by =poetoffire to be "a brilliantly tight and focused piece of writing with a poetic yet believable voice." I agree; I enjoyed this piece for its dual narration and detailed character study. (Suggested by ~fm-vorassi and Featured by `lovetodeviate)

Comments


love 2 2 joy 0 0 wow 4 4 mad 0 0 sad 1 1 fear 0 0 neutral 0 0
:iconlady-selia:
O_O holy sweet mary mother of god that was EPIC!!!!!

Really I'm speechless; I love this piece! No words can describe how simply fantastic your work is!

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Another misspelled rhyme written in the book of time...
:iconpoetoffire:
Wow, thanks. I wrote it a long time ago...

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I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all. ~Richard Wright
:iconlady-selia:
Its still bloody brilliant! Haha out of all the authors I know and have read very few can even hold a candle to your talent.

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Another misspelled rhyme written in the book of time...
:iconsnow-machine:
Beautiful, there were several passages that I felt were worth quoting and ended up losing track. You portray this obsession very well.

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The sleep of reason produces monsters - Fransisco Goya
:iconpoetoffire:
Thanks!

--
I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all. ~Richard Wright
:iconfm-vorassi:
This is a stunning piece of prose. The use of the thought-passages in italics (normally something I'm not keen on) felt just right, and was used perfectly. Great read.

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Moved to ~ARIrish.
:iconximcharmedx:
that was absolutely...wow...

wonderful job. it was perfect.

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Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back!

Confusion is a word we have invented for an order which is not yet understood. -Henry Miller

"She's like a sweet summer, a sweet summer day; I can't let it, can't let it go to waste."
:iconapocathary:
Well written, and congratulations on the DD! :w00t:

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soup's up :: sound off :: imagine
:iconeternalfallacy:
This is unbelievable :clap: Wonderful job :heart:

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Pisanie poprawną polszczyzną daje ci +5 do lansu.
:iconfredendil:
i am speechless... i find this both disturbing and beautiful, is that possible? :+fav:

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*Don't take life too seriously; you'll never get out of it alive <-- I'm trying...

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January 18
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