Throw me out the window, literally, that would probably hurt less than theoretically.
But then maybe you’d care enough to call, and talk to me for more than 49 seconds.
I wish I could tell you about my flight, but I can’t, literally, so maybe I can, theoretically.
The minute you said goodbye I felt myself take off.
I left the ground with such sudden urgency that I didn’t notice how fast I was going.
Next, I felt myself collide with the cold, hard, glass:
cold as ice,
hard as a rock.
Within milliseconds, the glass shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, each piercing my face, one by one, every time you said you couldn’t call.
And then, after the glass pulled the blood from my body, I went cold, and fell.
I’ve fallen down three stories, one for every day, and I’ve still got four more to pass.
You’d think the icy wind across my skin would feel liberating as I fall, but all I feel is cold.
falling
falling
falling
all the way down.
You say you know what this feels like, but I promise, you’ve never felt the shards pierce your soul like I have.  You’ve never felt them pierce your heart.  You’ve never fallen, with no knowledge of what will be thrown at you, and no knowledge of how far away the ground is.

And the worst part is, I’m falling alone, because you’re not here, and I can’t tell you this.
So for now, I put on a happy face, and instead of falling, I am flying.