It's early in the morning, the roads are practically empty, there's a cool chill in the air, you have remnants of sleep in your eyes, and you've never felt so alive. It's like one of those days that you're going to the airport and you get to watch everyone driving to work, and you think "peace suckas! I'm outta here!" You don't have to live out your long and pathetic day, because today, you're going skydiving.
You're excited.
You're nervous.
You don't want to go.
But you wan't to go even more.
You feel like you're just leaving the world behind. Traveling to unexplored land. As if the plane that you're now flying in is going to take you to mars, or crash and kill you. Either way you're happy, because you're leaving the idiots on this earth. You finally get to the jump. This is the hardest part. Everything leading up to the jump. It's the anticipation that gives you the biggest thrill. You stop and wonder if this is what you really want to do, but you know you just have to do it. Like ripping off a band-aid. You just have to take a deep breath....... In....... Out...... and go. That was it. That was the hardest part. The rest of the way is pure bliss. Euphoria. You don't want this to ever end. And all you have left to do now is pull the parachute, and hope it works. You start to see people around you pull, but nothing happens. They become terrified. Then splat. They hit hard. How is it going to end for you? You can never know until you try, because this isn't skydiving. This is love.
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