I knew from the very start that somewhere in the middle I would have to find an ending. The final never comes before the ending, except in art house films.
Finality follows certainty. Is there not something cathartic in that? Jumpers soaring for an indefinate amount of time find a smile placed permanent upon their cadaver. Personally my thoughts on the subject is that there is no escape from gravity to the featherless fowl known as the meloncholy, and the unavoidable destity is accepted without the bullshit that usually blocks the serenity with letting the things fall where they may. The sights and sounds, not from excitement but acceptance.
It is certain you are hitting that ground young meloncholy bird. No time to think about what will happen if you break though the earth to the otherside.
Reason you get hurt is the entire mass of the Earth will act upon your body, The reason you will be fine is your soul will bounce, the rubbery substance is the elasticity of the certain man. Sublime.
I sometimes thought about what would happen if there was no more thoughts and instead just acceptance. First I would have to jump. Although I do not want to crash into the soft embrace of concrete, I would perfer the hard hold of something unfamilar yet pertantly consistant. My Catharsis is cold, better put it on the backburner.
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