She found herself in the middle of a metaphor. Standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down into th

She found herself in the middle of a metaphor. Standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down into the deep pools below. No idea what lay underneath that shining surface, the hint of the darkness underneath it disguised by the ever-helpful sunshine. It seemed ominous. It seemed inviting.  He’d called her with a question. A single word, and not even a good word at that. Just a ‘So?’ on the other end of the line like he expected her to have made a decision. As if a week was long enough to redefine yourself as a person. As if a week was long enough to even consider it. She’d mumbled something incoherent and put the phone down. It had run again, three rings, and then nothing.  The next time he rang she had an answer, but it was a delay, the kind of answer that goes nowhere, finds a door to slip through that isn’t forwards and isn’t backwards. It just hangs out in some stranger’s living room for a while, before you’re ready to make a proper commitment. He’d laughed on the other end of the line, and that sound had made her feel smaller than she knew she could. Her blush had hung up for her.  Her toes dug into the rock, feeling little imperfections dig into the thick skin like insistent fingers, urging her to forsake this lump of geography and fling that body into the unknown. Take the leap, and have the faith that you’ll come out on top, either way. Someone asked if she was going to stare into the water all day, whether she was vain enough to be enamoured with her own reflection. She didn’t listen. She just had that question hovering in her mind like a guilty verdict. It lacked faith in her, and it was sapping what little she had in herself. It was an accusing finger, a laughing bully, leering over her shoulder whenever she did anything. It was leering there, now, two words and the squiggle of a question mark, innocuous, mocking.  So what. So yeah. So fuck.  So she jumped. -- source link

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