I never had a fear of heights, but I've always had a fear of falling, the empty sensation in the stomach that wrenches me from dreams. So I threw myself at the shallows, at the things that would not hurt me when I landed, inevitably without waiting hands at the bottom. I threw myself at the places where I could force myself back onto my battered feet, where I didn't have to be disappointed by all the helping hands I was not receiving.
Now I regret my lack of recklessness. Because every time I pushed myself to my knees, to my feet again, I found that the pain was just the same. I should have spent it on the things that really mattered.
But I don't know how to take off my training wheels. I spent so much time avoiding the edge, the deep, that I don't really know how to fall.