Cowards Afraid of Falling

I’ve been here before, on the edge, so close that my toes are hanging off. I strain myself, my eyes wide and beholding, my neck arched to let me peer over without losing my balance. I take care not to fall, not to lose my footing and slip into the abyss.

I am not alone here, on the edge. All around me, there are others, those who are like me, on the edge, yet so hesitant to fall over. Some stay further back, preferring the safety of the world they know to the mystery of what lay below. Occasionally, a few fall, some slipping off because they lost their footing, or strained too far, other taking the step themselves, tipping over, walking off, jumping, all on their own free will.

But those that stay behind far outnumber those that take the fall. And for every one that takes the fall, two walk away from the pit entirely. Nobody knows what’s quite on the other side. A few have fallen, only to come back, broken and injured by the fall, yet wanting so desperately to fall back in, to try again at whatever hidden treasure the depths held.

There certainly was something, in the pit. You could say it was a siren’s song, of sorts, an alluring magnetic force drawing people in, perhaps to their sweet reward, perhaps to their devastating demise, for no one knew for sure. But every so often, someone would fall in, perhaps on their own volition, perhaps on accident, and they’d find whatever was in the depths, never to return. And so those on the pit were afraid, cowards afraid of what they did not know, too afraid to fall and find out.

And so I stood there. One of the many. A coward. Wanting so desperately to jump in and try but afraid of the pain of failing. I almost wished that my foot slipped, that I lost balance, that I tipped over the edge, so that the choice would be removed from me, that I would be forced to act on it rather than act on it out of will.

And so I stood, on the edge, the balls of my feet now hanging over the lip, so eager, yet so hesitant. I’ve been on this ledge so long I almost dread what my life will be without it, the familiarity of it. Better the devil you know, as they say. And though I try and convince myself that I’m happy on the edge, the more and more I know that I seek what’s down in the depths, the hidden prize that so many have sought for and so few have discovered.

But I wonder, if I would even notice if I were already falling?