I'm not sure if it was the music,
The ****, or the sheer dreamlike joy of it all, that disguised and distracted me from the click-click-click of our coaster cart climbing ever higher.
  Strapped in tight, I had long gotten over my fear and anxiety of the ride we were on.
  After all, we had waited in line for what seemed like years before getting to experience the thrill they all sing about.
  Before I knew it we had reached the top.
We sat there for a brief eternity, appreciating the view, enjoying each other's company. Your hair looked so dark against the blue sky, and my skin felt so warm, in the high-sky breeze. The birds we always watched were practically our peers for just a moment.
  In a thousandth of the time it took to reach the peak, we were halfway through our freefall, all the beauty we were enveloped in, now merely a blur.
  Although at first fear gripped at my mind when my stomach turned as our cart plummeted, it soon gave way to joy, as I slowly realized this was the true ******. These moments of helplessness as we are whipped around each curve and loop, are the parts we climbed that hill for. The parts that end up in songs, and poems.
  The view was great and calm, but the rough parts, the parts that might leave bruises, are the parts that give it meaning.