To fall for another human being is the freest fall. The most uncontrolled, the most illogical, and at the same time logical, thing to do when another human hits you so recklessly. There are no safety lines. There are no airbags when feelings of love blows up our inner control tower. Then we stand completely defenseless. At our most vulnerable. How terrifying and divine is it that someone can make us lose our footing so fast that we barely feel the tremor before the ground shatters underneath us?
I wasn’t even supposed to fall. I didn’t want to. I told myself I wouldn’t. It happened too fast. I wasn’t ready. You are not my saviour, not my quick fix. You are not my one and only. You’re not mine and you don’t want me to be yours. You’re not ready either. Still, I fell. Still, I feel. And I don’t want to. Not yet.
Falling so that all you can remember when your head hits the pillow is the other person’s scent. To be given only a finger and making in into a whole arm. To let the obsession take over and to gratefully devour everything you’re given. To miss what has not yet been and to glorify yesterday. To want to rest in the other person’s perfections. To be hypnotized by their words so that the only thing you hear is all the good, everything you’ve longed to hear.
To fumble around in feelings that projects dreams of an us. To patch up the pieces that remains when no one cushioned the fall. And isn’t it crazy how astonishingly we can fall over and over again? It’s what drives us, and destroys us. It’s the torture, and the reward. It’s the fall, that hurts so gravely, that makes us feel so alive. How life is for real.
(Att falla – translated into English)