And here, on the edge, a little tickle that formed in the back of my throat last night has become a deeper scratchiness and my body can't quite decide what temperature it wants to be, and all manner of horrible things are threatening to happen elsewhere, but mostly I'm together. I feel OK. Cracks are forming along the ledge and soon I will tumble down, down down, but for now, I am standing on the edge.
Here on the edge, if one looks over into all that blackness, it is unclear what will be on the other side. The only certainty is the fall, and that it will be cold, and sometimes scary and uncomfortable. It is not horrifying. I have, after all, been to the edge before, many times. Sometimes I have fallen and sometimes I have turned around and wandered for a while first. It's merely something that has to be done.
I am standing on the edge. Soon I will wrap myself in blankets and sleep for as long as I can, and when I wake, I will have fallen.
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