Heaving Sighs, Restraining Tears

I'm suspended in the air and I feel like I'm about to fall into thin ice. Great day I'm having, can't you tell?

The moment I decided not to worry too much, doubt befalls on the opposite horizon. How fucked up is that? I'm supposed to be the one running away, it's my mechanism. So I decide it's time to challenge myself to stay and keep moving forward. But the very thing I'm running towards is about to pull away, so yeah... what the hell am I supposed to do?

This really, really sucks sweaty monkey balls. Ampotah.

I'm not ready to turn the page yet, but if the other party starts the second-guessing... what's left of me to do? Should I just leave the page open in my book and let it close over there? Doesn't that sound a little unfair, if not at all pathetic?

Then again, my life was, is, and always will be an unfair paradox epitomizing defectiveness personified... so it fits right in. And so, once more, I become one whole piece of a million broken shards.

I think I'll keep hanging in the air for a few seconds more, my arms will tire out and I'll fall into the ice eventually. Prolonging the suspension is just plain procrastination - Who wants to fall without getting caught and drowning in the end anyway?

Yeah, I'll just suffer by hanging. Drowning doesn't sound too fun.