The invisible arm is pushing me again. Over the edge and down to the cars below. The conversation is good, the night beautiful. And yet that little voice in my head screams at me to jump off the roof, my splat on the sidewalk just another "pop" amongst all the other celebratory explosions of Independence. I sit down, safer from myself with more surface area on the solid tar.
I've always had a vivid imagination; always felt like I was seconds away from doing something drastic. It's a terrifying feeling but you learn to cope by staying away from 23rd-story balconies and distracting yourself when near traffic. I know that l'appel du vide, or the call of the void, is also why I was able to move to the other side of the planet and leave everything I knew, so I accept the bad for the benefits it offers me.
But now I wonder about the benefits. If jumping off a building is necessarily bad then how is killing your old life for a mysterious new one necessarily good? Of course I've grown as a person, but I left the greatest time and people so far in my life for a place that left me miserable and jaded.
And now I face another crossroads. The voice is telling me to run to California. But this time there's another voice too--the voice of reason, perhaps--that tells me to seek redemption and happiness where I know it exists.
Life back in the States is strange. I have a great story to tell but it's too exhausting to relive every time I meet an old friend, or a new one. What have I been up to during the past two years? I'm not even sure where to begin. "And you?" I almost feel guilty for asking. No one can match my story. It's the devil on my shoulder that's made me what I am today, but at what price?
So I'll let the arms carry me once again to California to try to squeeze yet more from life, but this time I'll be cognizant of the angel on my shoulder, too. Maybe there are many ways to live life to the fullest.
