Sunrise

They say history repeats itself. I guess that's true. I mean, I watch the sun rise every morning, and yet the next morning, it rises once again. Every day, bright red and pink slowly spread their way across the far edge of the horizon, and the sun slowly pokes up behind them, as if he's afraid we've already forgotten how beautiful he is. One full day later, it all happens again. Granted, the colours, the patterns and the immense beauty change day to day, but history still repeats itself.

I wouldn't change it if I could, though. There is something so comforting in the sight of an expanse of blue-grey clouds, dappled in hot pink. The colour splashes across the bottom sides of the clouds, as if it is in a rush to get somewhere. It doesn't seem to be in a rush, but when you look back a minute later, the colour has spread so much farther, you're sure that its late for something.

Eventually, the pink starts to fade and all of the sudden, the sun is up and it is day.

Scientifically, I know that the Earth I stand on is round, the sunrise is a result of the Earth turning, and the colours are just rays of light that have been lengthened from having to come all the way around the edge of the round planet.

And yet, I can see how people believed they stood on a flat surface, and the sun revolved around them. That's the way we're trained to think, isn't it? We're taught to believe we are the center of everything.

We aren't though, the center of everything. We are each just a speck of matter floating in a never-ending rotation, surrounded by other specks of matter who think they are the center of everything.

Countdown

I can't breathe.

Ten.

I can't see, either. Everything feels a million miles away and is all fuzzy.

Nine.

Okay, for real now, I can't breathe. I feel like my stomach is in my throat and no air can get past it.

Eight.

I can now hear the blood pumping through my brain, so I force a ragged breath in through my lips.

Seven.

Let the breath back out again, listening to the air hiss between my teeth.

Six.

Halfway there, right? Or does five count as halfway there? I've never really been--

Five.

Crap, crap, crap. My heart is racing.

Four.

I can feel a huge grin working its way across my face.

Three.

One more deep breath, all the way in...

Two.

And all the way back out. A slow calm is working its way through my bloodstream.

One.

This. Is. It.

Jump.

Everything falls away from me, which is ironic, because I'm falling. I'm surrounded by nothing and no one, just me and the air. I can feel and hear the air, she's yelling in my ears how crazy I am. I focus and count, remembering how long they said to wait. When I pull on the cord, my body jerks up. Everything slows down and I right myself. Now I can focus on the ground, and see how far away it really is. It gets closer constantly, but it still seems like forever away.

Pure ecstasy is pumping through my veins. This is so awesome. The stunning beauty of the landscape, the sheer thrill of the fall, the pounding adrenaline. I have never felt more alive. I want time to freeze right here and now. I never want to feel anything else, because nothing else will ever compare to way I feel right now.