Love is Like Stepping on a Lego

Feelin' like a Plastic Bag

"You're crazy!" I whimper. My limbs shake violently as I heave myself up onto the wooden pole. My grip tightens onto my friend's hand like a lifeline as I stand there in fright; my bones feel as if they've turned to jelly, my knees knocking painfully together, and my body swaying to a fro like a plastic bag in the wind. Sadly, Katy, I do not feel like a firework. I fumble over my words while nearly begging the the girl next to me to hurry the fuck up because I can't stand on this goddamn pole any longer. It had taken nearly four days to convince me to climb up here. It was only when a little girl, no more than 7, ran across the dock, heaved herself up onto the ledge, and launched herself off into the cold, grey ocean in minutes that I could find no further argument to save myself from this certain doom. Finally my friend straightens up on the pole next to me, her hand still grasped tightly in mine, and throws me a grin- I let out a growl (a pitiful whimper) in relatilation. "Ready?" No. "On the count of three," why do I let you convince me to do these things? "We'll jump together!" I don't care if a 7 year old did it! "One," oh god, "two..." I hate you! "Three!" I love you.