If I jump…will I survive?

About 20 ft off the ground watching my feet dangling in the wind got me thinking about life. I’m not one to think much about life but when I do it is usually intense and perhaps morbidly so, in any case I thought about my anxiety and how different I would be without it, then I thought about strangers and people who I didn’t know with anxiety that must be thinking the same thing and I thought about death and I suppose the more I thought the more everything got murky and turned into a big incomprehensible soup and I imagined how people who take their own lives must find themselves overwhelmed with their dissatisfaction with everything and caught up in such a tremendous amount of angst that they get lost in the dark and can’t seem to escape, since being alive I haven’t experienced death, no one close to me has died, I haven’t witnessed death the way many witness its rawness, the closest I have come to death is the death of celebrities, pets and perhaps very distant relatives who may have very well been celebrities. Then I thought about my life and inevitable death and I wondered what that will be like, whether I’ll go in a peaceful exit or a loud and disturbing absence, and I thought about being missed, I couldn’t quite fathom what missing a dead person is like but I imagine it must feel tremendous and perhaps it would make you lie awake, and maybe it will cause an incredible amount of anguish. Then I thought about time and its unbiased disinterest with existence, it isn’t perturbed by anything and continues without the bat of an eye, and I wondered if life was like an illusion and you were free at its end, and I thought about those who dared to take the plunge and find out and I even wondered what they did find at the bottom of the ocean of uncertainty.
And then I came back to the thought if I jump…will I survive?. And I didn’t perhaps because of the uncertainty, the probability and a million other equations of extraterrestrial proportions, so instead I cling to life and its frivolity, and its uncertainty and irony, clinging to the slippery surface like a drowning insect, hoping for the best and expecting the worst fearful and amazed taken and given by the tides of existence.
As always thanks for reading.
Life is still a voyage-The Voyaging Voyager.

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