Like a rollercoaster, I get dragged up to the peak of the ride. Then I hang there, in suspense, a painful anticipation worse than being at the bottom of the hill to begin with. The sky is foggy; goodness knows what inveigled me to board the ride in the first place. What lies beneath? Is it a thrill, awesome, exhilarating? Or is it a bottomless pit, one that I've worked so freaking hard to avoid? "Come on," they said. I ignored them at first, and at second, even third. Relentlessly they prodded me, and I thought that it couldn't be that bad; if misery awaited, they wouldn't have put in that effort to get me to experience it. Why waste so much effort, just to make someone feel horrible? Are there not better uses of the human spirit? In the end though, it was I that stepped on. I pulled down the restraints and buckled the seatbelt. This was my decision. I pray to whatever God-like thing exists out there that it wasn't the wrong one.
Why?
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