It’s nice up here. Winking at the sun as it plays hide and seek with my eyes. The wind running fingers through my hair. Moisture in the air caressing my skin softly. Everything seems so small, and trivial. This isn’t over rated at all. I see what all the fuss is about.

Oh the air smells so delicious. Smells like triumph. I want to fling my arms back and inhale, breathing into my senses all around me, to collect treasures of memories as souvenirs of my journey. I have made myself a home. But I’m not made to live here.

I sometimes find myself seeking traces of a heart beat, when I fear I don’t feel. I’m sure its there. I just don’t need it right now. It’s a warmer place for the oblivious, and I choose to be one.

I take a step closer to the cliff every time I come up here, looking down at the crashing waves, knowing it’s soon going to be time to jump into the stream again. There’s no fear this time. I stand alone, with strawberry bruises on my knees. I’m almost amused at myself and the relentless urge to take the plunge…

..Sigh…Step back Maria. Hmm...not just yet. Maybe another day :)