hoping.

You wake up, groggy. It appears you feel asleep at the coffee shop. That isn't what happened, you KNOW that isn't what happened, And yet here you are. You stretch your arms, it can't be helped, they feel unused, as if you haven't actually done anything for months. That isn't true though. Is it? It's hard to get back to your life, it all seems so distant. You still feel as if you're falling. You can't remember there faces, who they are, why they love you. It has been to long.

And yet you persist, you explain the situation, the doctor says you're fine. Nothing happened. You tell yourself that every day now. Nothing mattered in there. It all makes so much sense as you go back to work and life continues as normal. The falling was temporary, even if it feels ever permanent. You are still falling. Aren't you.

Not that it matters what the truth of this is. Even if this is just your dream atleast you can live, And live you do, You do so many things, with the knowledge it can all be gone at any second. Yet that doesn't hinder you, infact it bolsters you. Why should you stop doing things when the opportunity to do them is ever fleeting. Why not take every opportunity to do what you love? Are you not deserving equally as everyone else of the ability to affect the world in which you live? Are you not allowed to be, to exist in this world? You think you are deserved those privileges, same as everyone else.

It's nice now. Your life is great, your friends are wonderful. Even if it turns out some had misconceived notions about you. You not only have your life back, you have more of a life than you did before. No longer are you simply living, now you are thriving.

Despite the trauma of the day, it feels as if you are better off for it. The horrors leading you to be a better person, be more in the moment, instead of wishing, wishing that things could be better. Now you make them better. No longer saddled with the regret of not doing anything, with the aw of what could be done, and instead, simply doing what you can to live, to breath and to be.

You enjoy your life greatly. Well renowned in your field, people respect you, not because you aren't the same as them, not because you are special. You aren't, no one is, It's just that at the end of the day, when all is said and done.

You got up and tried your best, and while some days were less notable than others. That did not matter, And while some days felt like they were the worst ever. That did not matter. For on every day you got up. For on every single day You tried. You Tried To Live. Not for some higher purpose. Not for your friends, family, or even a group you care about.

No. You. You lived for living's sake. For the joy that is life in it's ups and downs. You lived. Not for other's wants, not even for yourself. You lived to live, and live you did, and exist you have, and wish you could, and so you lived with all the will you can muster.

And while it was never perfect, your life was yours. Yours alone, and you made use of every ounce of it, for if you didn't, the world would not care. The world would simply discard you. But now, atleast you live fully, whatever that even means.

To the best of your ability, to the best of your efforts, to the best of your will, to the best of your possibility. No longer shackled by ideals of worth, of usefulness, of there being any purpose in life except to live. For you have seen life when you were no better than dead. When you could do nothing, when nothing knew of you. When all was said and done nothing happened, and it stared back. Dared you to do better.

And So you did, achieving more than you could have dreamed of. Simply because you didn't mind if you failed. For at the end of the day you were still trying, hoping, and sometimes achieving.

You lived. You loved. You cared. You did, and is there truly anything more important? Anything quantifiable, actually able to be observed? You fell through the world, fell through existence, and you came back stronger. Yet never did you see anything, not a god nor being in sight. Yet that doesn't even matter. Why care about what's after. When all is here already, a place to play, a place to be.

If there is a higher power it is hardly relevant. If it permeates all, it is thin and fleeting. So you simply exist no matter the truth. After falling so, so far, you picked yourself back up, and it was grand.

Years pass, you are happy, the ups and downs blend into a gradual incline. You have never forgotten your fall. Your dreams were never right after that. Your dreams weren't yours, only happening in the dream of someone else. A dark unstable place. Recently it got quite different. Feeling more and more real. You know what this means, and embrace it.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

--- It was a nice day, sky was cloudy. The birds were cawing, even the bus was on time. You weren't doing much really, just talking with friends on your phone while drinking some coffee at a cafe that you frequented.

You still weren't anyone special, people would miss you, and in the grand scheme of things you have made an impact. But that was built up, not everyone needs to be known, and the things you do are for your friends and family, not some indistinct audience. You never wanted to be known, just loved and cared for, And you were.

And really, is that not life? To you? Yes. So you sat there with a cup of coffee and a new pastry less fad and more flavor, you were quite a regular, something about this place drew you again and again. It wasn't brand new anymore, years ago you were one of the first customers.

It still wasn't great coffee, though it was better, coffee doesn't have to be grand anyways. It just needs to be there.

You bid farewell to the store, wishing the barista a good day. They were a decent person and you've both had plenty of conversations over the years. You rode the bus, it was empty aside from you; and the driver. A tap of your transit card and you were off.

Home was a bit away and it was getting farther. But for now you sat on the bus, this was the last bus on the return trip, you were getting close. You had a car, but it always felt right to return from the cafe on a bus. After around 15 minutes and another person joining the bus, it was time for you to step off. The bus stop you left into large and welcoming.

It's an hour until nothing happens. When it does you'll be gone, however you know you have a while. So you go for a walk.

It's a nice walk, the air is cool, a breeze giving you ample heat exchange. You walk for a while around the bus stop. Doing loops, and something feels familiar. The air is gone, the few stars in the sky no longer. Every loop around you take the world is more comforting.

You have been here before, the place welcoming you back. It was inevitable, yet you aren't angry.

With nothing much to do you pull out a notebook. Drawing the place you know you'll always come back to. The wonder of the light's buzz, the only movement in an empty transit station. Forests framing it where they shouldn't be. A world silent and lovely.

Everything was silent. You don't attempt to speak. Or scream, or even yell. All you hear is the call for return. The pencil on your paper. You have been looking forward to this moment. So you know you do not do anything but let it all happen as it happens.

You finish the sketch, you know it is flattered to be seen. You don't hate it, infact it loves you as much as you love it. It's been about an hour after the bus should've arrived, but you knew it wouldn't. You don't even know why exactly it would. The world has better things to do. Even if it didn't you don't feel like leaving. You don't know why you would. Still clinging to the day your life in one way or another, became all the more lively.

So, you sit down, and reminisce on your life as it is now. One of the many billions of people, yet the only person who is you. You know nothing works here, And is that not a sign to simply enjoy it? Why focus upon the world before, when now it is this? You relax, there is no point in living, and yet you live. The nothingness respects this, beckons it even. You've seen stories where places like it are misconstrued, where the place is actually hungry and to be feared. Toying with prey as it slowly consumes it.

If this is happening here, you don't particularly care. You will enjoy the time you have while it's still able to be enjoyed. You get up, and decide to walk. You know where to go already. It signs your name, and you answer. There is forest all around the bus stop, it was always to dark to see from a distance. And that's how it should be, the bus stop is it's own thing, not a big city, with little more than parks as shade.

You walk for a while. Repeating the same song and dance as before. Soon after the nth time, you turn around spotting a sewer tunnel, large with the lid to the side. You realize you stepped right over it. The lid is for a place you don't know, and using an alphabet you rationalize as simply saying "a world of singular purpose. Everlasting upon our gaze" You understand. There was something down there. Not exactly a thing, but a concept, falling.

You look around. Seeing the world around you, you are in a forest, the bus stop is not to far from you, all of that walking quite refreshing all in all. This place feels like a fall, not empty though. Like everything here it is simply a purpose propped up by your union with the entity to love you in the only way it can.

You don't have any reason to object. And you love it back, it's clear within your mind that you yearn for it's embrace. Not in the classic depressive "I want it all to end" way, but in the "I want to take a break and relax". You just know it'll be kind, your fate sealed the second you came here something you are powerless to change, And unwilling.

There is no point in waiting, yet you sit at the edge and sigh. Your feet dangling. A life is above this place. A life is there for you if you choose to leave. It would let you, you've given it enough. But why would you leave now. Maybe after a while, you'll wish to return. But until then? You can only enjoy your time here. Despite knowing the uselessness of waiting, your brain fears the abyss. Yet your heart simply wishes to be. Your feet are dangling above an abyss, you see it in there. But it's just falling, nothing else. In any way. And yet it is oh so much more than that.

Eventually you let go, after who knows how long. You know there is only kindness in the fall.

You fall. There is an caring gaze looking at you, and you smile.