it's not meant to romanticize anything. it's a vent. i use this method sometimes because i'm edgy and stupid and dumb and a stereotype

•••

it is not fast.

you do not fall.

there is a slow, incremental descent.

it's like a staircase.

the steps make their way to the back of your mind,

the walking just an action you do as a habit.

step,

by step,

by step.

minutes,

hours,

days-

who knows how long you've been walking?

you stopped counting the steps, really.

you never considered walking back up.

or maybe you did,

maybe, after a while,

you turned around and began to go the other way.

step,

by step,

by step,

by step,

by—

there's no use.

far too long a walk.

no, you're much better with the other way.

faster, easier, safer.

and it's not like there's nothing to do.

every now and then,

the sun shines onto your little staircase.

a smile,

a friend,

something.

you don't go back up, of course—

why would you go back up?

far, far too long a walk.

but you stop walking for a moment.

stop to enjoy that something...

but it always goes away,

and you're left with only the steps.

step,

by step,

by step.

until, all of a sudden—

the steps end.

there are no more steps to take.

you are at the bottom of the stairs.

it's almost impossible to move.

you are left with your thoughts.

you used all your energy walking down

that you're left with nothing to get you back up.

maybe you take one step in the other direction.

or two,

or three—

and then walk back down.

you don't know why you walk back down.

maybe you don't.

maybe you were tugged.

maybe you fell.

maybe something walked for you.

you can't tell.

all of a sudden,

however you got down those steps

is a mystery.

any memory of it has vanished into thin air.

you can hardly remember how to walk in a straight line,

let along up all those long, long steps.

you begin to remember.

someone helps you remember, maybe.

you start to walk up again.

but there's so, so many steps, aren't there?

you keep going.

sometimes.

sometimes you just sit down on those steps,

and you wait.

what do you wait for?

you can't tell.

maybe you're just waiting for the steps to disappear.

or for you to just teleport to the top of them.

and sometimes,

for a reason you can't even explain to yourself,

you walk back down.

maybe it's out of habit.

you're used to walking down the stairs.

but, nevertheless,

you walk up them still.

because even if

you don't remember what is at the top,

or what you vaguely remember has changed,

you want to see it again.

these stairs are false comfort,

and you need to see the top again.