Monday, April 6, 2009

[Untitled.]

“In, out, in, out, in, out,” I repeated. “This is easy, nothing to worry about.”
I continued going up with the destination in mind. I dared not look down to the path that led me to this point. My hand clenched to the next hole, carefully making sure that I did not fall.

"I am stupid," I thought. "Why did I not bring any equipment with me on this climb? Ah, now, I remember. The local oracle had told me that I could not climb this cliff without taking risks."
I replied that "climbing is a risk in itself."

I was not allowed to climb unless I did it of my own strength and God-made tools, my hands. Therefore, 7562 feet later and I am here, tired and hungry with nothing but God’s fuel: air.

I wanted to sleep. I wanted to give up and fall into the abyss that lay below me. “In, out, in, out, in, out,” I repeated once more.

This constant jabbing at the monumental rock to ascend reminded me of Cassandra. It was foolish of me to let her go. We were at the lobby. An argument arose and she stormed off. The elevator was too slow for her so she ran to the stairs. I ran after her.

“Wait, Cassandra! Please wait,” I shouted. “I didn’t mean it!”

She did not respond.

I continued to run after her. Her, an athlete, sprinted up the stairs in an alarming speed, while, I, an Olympic couch potato, gasped for air after the third flight of stairs.

Click Clack. Click Clack. Click Clack.

All I was able to hear was her high heels.

Click Clack. Click Clack. Click Clack.

It was almost as if they were mocking me, laughing at me for my incompetence.

Click Clack. In, out. Click Clack. In, out.

My ears buzzed with these sounds. Click Clack.

I continued climbing. In, out.

She continued dashing to her apartment on the 15th floor. Click Clack.

I gathered all my strength and continued on my ascent. In, out. Click Clack. In, out. Click Clack.

It continued. Upon reaching the eighth floor, the sounds of her heels stopped. I giggled at the thought of her heels having the last laugh. Laughter turned into sorrow and I began to sob.

I yelled.

“In, in, in, in,” I began.

“Just get IN. Please, I just wanted you to let me in,” I told the mountain, thinking of that night.

“In,” I whispered. I laughed. My voice sounded like the heels that night, clicking and clacking their way into my loneliness.

I finally blurted, “out.” I let go of the rock. I lost my balance. I lost myself. I fell.

I fell much like the night Cassandra left me. I was hysterical. I continued walking up the stairs, absent of the mocking sounds of her heels. I reached her apartment.

I reached for a rock once more, attempting to grab hold of the cliff during my fall.

I knocked. She did not answer.

My hand slipped.

I opened the door with my spare key. She began to scream for me to leave.

“I don’t want you anymore,” she said at the top of her lungs. “You were a waste of time!”

I fell further to the ground. My hands attempted to clutch to any holes that were visible.

I grabbed her. It is extraordinary how much a fall changes someone. The adrenaline fueled my anger for her.

I continued to fall.

I pushed her. She tried to escape my wrath but tripped. I saw my chance. I dragged her by her hair. Upon reaching the window, I picked her up and threw her. She grabbed on to my hand. I held her up, then I let go. She fell.

I did not bother grabbing on to any holes now.

She did not scream. She only stared. Her silence pierced me. As she was opening her mouth, she reached the sidewalk.

Her silence still pierces me. The silence of me falling down this cliff felt the same as that night, but I dared not yell.

I stared.

I opened my mouth:

“I love you,” I whispered. “Cass-”