Maybe this is the calm before the storm—that fatidic moment, the one I never saw coming, although it came anyway after rounding not the second or third corner, but the fourth. Was I scared? Unsure how to leave—to jump? Yes and no. Leap with me. I leapt and got swept up by the curling tides of memory, tears, a chance encounter, or a mix of the sort. There’s no real difference with jumping or tiptoeing in and out of love. I don’t regret jumping. I’m just struggling with knowing how to do either one successfully. Perhaps I’m waiting for the last tear to fall. I’m tired. I’m tired. NB: I was on shrooms in this selfie. Thanks to @dronme for this admission 🤠