You Can Fly if You Fall Long Enough

One. I took a step.

Two. I looked up. Into the distance, across the horizon, and admired my view of blue. 

Three. Watched the birds as they beat through the sky. Clawing and tearing at it to get past

another foot in hopes to stay above the hard ground. Yet, it all comes so naturally to them, like 

walking.

Four. Those planes. Giant metal machines, somehow carrying all this weight through that vast 

blue canvas stretched out in front of me.

Five. The clouds seem so much lighter than I know they are. How could hundreds of tons still 

fly without falling? It seems so impossible. Too good to be true.

Six. And look at those kites. All they need is wind to glide above it all. Imagine what they must 

see. All the people, all the memories they must share with them. Oh, how they are so lucky, to 

drift on top of the world.

Seven. A sigh of disbelief. For the world around me is impossibly possible, and possibly 

impossible, just the same.

Eight. A final step.

Nine. Before I knew it, I was falling. Across the sky, across the universe, surrounded by 

memories of my life. Short things I remembered, like the breeze of last week’s new fall air, that 

dirty dish left in the sink, the way my clothes cling to my skin when it’s damp, the soothing 

warmth of a long shower, and the goosebumps I get from the cold winter season. And longer 

things, like how the world spun around me, as I spun with her, and we spun together, the way 

my heart tore itself in pieces as he slipped away from us, reading books upon books upon 

books, hours spent slaving away in a job I’ve never loved, and all those stars, those beautiful, 

beautiful stars, that lit up the sky in the moment I realized that this was it. Flashes of moments 

that had been and were to be one day.

Each memory felt like a lifetime ago, even so, there they were, clear as day, serenading me like 

a symphony. Beautiful melodies, echoing and fading and echoing and fading and echoing once 

more. Strumming of strings and pounding of drums and sawing of violins and blowing of 

trumpets and tickling of keys and bashing of cymbals and singing of songs.

Not one stolen lullaby lie away from me in these moments. Everything. I remember

everything. I can smell every sweet scent of my life. I can taste every bitter spice. I can feel

every growing sensation. I can hear every little whisper. And I can see every passing fragment

as they make their way in and out of my view. From the time I was born, to the time I might’ve 

left this world. It’s all played as a movie of my life. I see it all, from two eyes. My eyes. 

They’ve seen so much. So much more than I once thought they had.

Looking, and seeing and witnessing my life, it all feels so, pointless. Like my life didn’t mean 

anything. It’s being played at super speed, yet in a way it’s not. Here I am with myself. 

Mindlessly scrolling through my phone for hours upon end. And as I continue to fall into this 

void, everything goes by and I’m living through each and every second of it. Each and every 

pointless second.

Still, I’m falling. Those birds treading for their lives above land like it’s nothing. Seeing beyond 

the sun and its beaming light. Perhaps if I try, I might fly, too. Huge planes bending the laws of 

nature at their will. Soaring through it. Perhaps if I try, I might soar, too. Those clouds. Sailing 

through the sky. Creating storms and starless nights. They float at bliss with one another. Why 

can’t I float? Perhaps if I try, I might float, too. The colourful kites that watch over it all. They 

glide and sway with the tug of a string, the laughter of children, and the blow of the wind. 

Perhaps if I try, I might glide, too.

Perhaps, if I had tried, I might have been with her. Maybe just for another minute. Even just 

one more second. Her face still maintains its porcelain glow in every clip I see. Long, playful

hair of gold and beautiful eyes like chocolate, pale skin, sprinkled with sweet caramel specks, 

and soft pink lips, always smiling. Well, almost. Almost always smiling.

More and more memories, more moments, more minutes are brought to life. They pass by like 

ads with no skip button. I forgot that happened. Oh look, that old broken swing with the 

squeaky seat. My very first day of school. The first day I met her. The last day I thought we 

had together. She, like I, was not smiling then. That rusted car with its chatty engine. That 

worthless yet priceless bottle cap on the side of that long-lost road. So many missed 

opportunities. Missed chances to get up off that stupid couch. Countless losses, and yet, by 

some means, even more wins. All of this work I thought had gone to nothing. All of the 

sacrifices I thought meant nothing. How it might’ve all finally payed off in the end.

Might’ve.

How is it that we only realize life’s beauty at its end. If we realized its beauty in life, perhaps life 

would be more beautiful.

All these moments of melancholy in my life were just that. Moments. Each did not last forever. 

I got past them all. We were together in the end. It was all okay in the end. It was all worth it 

in the end. It was all perfect in the end. It was all amazing in the end. Each and every sad 

moment was beautiful, in the end.

As the last of these memories rolled in, I took a final breath, closed my eyes, bracing myself for 

what was coming, bracing myself for the unknown... And it was all gone.

In what had seemed like forever, though truly only a single second, I had lived out my life, then 

forgot it all, as I made my way down the rest of the stairs, as if nothing even happened.

Ten.