the skydiver

i told her- on the top of my voice, amidst the noise of the propeller:

i do not think i can truly be happy unconditionally. there is always that voice in the background stealing the thunder.

she didn’t reply. she was adjusting her straps.

and i hated it. i hated it. i think i am too hard on myself. i continued shouting. she didn’t seem to hear me. or probably, she didn’t understand what i was saying. just like everybody else.

and then she spoke up:

standards. she wasn’t shouting but i heard it quite clearly, amidst the noise of the helicopter’s propeller. your standards. let go of it.

i watched her jump off, down into the voids of the air.


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