I hate that eternal abyss that pulls at you whenever you lift a finger from that thin edge to which you are clinging. I hate the way that abyss calls to you, and you want to let go but you are too afraid. I hate the way people try to pry your fingers away, screaming at you to let go. I hate the way they're all clinging to their own edges while they do so, because they must know how I'm feeling. But we all just hang on those edges, above the gaping maw of empty nothingness, thinking that hurting others will help us climb out. Nothing will help us escape from here, you hopeful, desperate souls. This is the way it is, barely holding on until we finally fall.