Freefall

Here’s a quick draft I wrote for an upcoming essay contest on modern love. Thanks to Mara for the link!

I went tandem skydiving a long time ago with some buddies. Being a huge control freak, the thought of jumping out of a plane at 18,000 feet above ground scared the crap out of me, but at the same time, there was something utterly appealing about it. The way you rescind control — in what you perceive to be a life-or-death moment — to somebody you hardly know, and knowingly place yourself in this vulnerable position in Fortune’s hands: there’s an odd but sublime sense of trust and freedom in that experience.

A few years ago, I went through a breakup that left me heartbroken. Having been through a fair share of breakups, I’ve always known the post-breakup phase of bitterness and cold, biting, judgmental cynicism to be just that: a phase. But I remember telling myself that this girl was different. Different. And then I reminded myself:

Well, aren’t they all?

On top of all of that, its happened enough to make me wonder: how many times do I have to go through it all until it really becomes, well, me? A cynical, misanthropic product of these social experiences.

The post-breakup phase seemed to last longer every time.

The big question that’s always hounded me was if I’d ever be able to trust someone again. Whenever I looked into someone’s eyes, I peeked for a hint of kindness, a clue to their trustworthiness.

Is it even possible, though? What can I even discern from a gentle smile, or a seductive wink? An expressionless face, even? A cold stare? How will I know? How can I judge? I often wondered about the impression I gave off to others, as well.

I realized that we’re all just terrible messes of human experience. Awkward encounters, social media, faceless chat rooms, text messaging, all because we’re all so frightened by rejection, of doing or saying the wrong thing, of absolutely needing to portray ourselves as a viable mate — of epic intimate proportions, of course. The weird creation of a likeable, lovable social identity for others to perceive.

Its so easy for us to judge each other, to distance ourselves and objectify these seemingly realistic yet artificial constructions of identity. But now, we’re all desperately afraid of how people perceive us. Its so difficult to not only find someone, but also to be able to commit to them in a real, monogamous, romantic relationship. Never mind the struggles of simply being a student here at UC Davis, the anxieties of love and relationships adds a stressful element of angst and frustration that many of us despise.

I’m standing in the middle of the hallway between classes, the weird temporal and physical space of limbo in a student’s life.

I look left and get a glimpse of Miss Davis coming down the hall. She’s beautiful, intelligent, sophisticated. Stunning.

I’m standing still, but I feel like I’m being swept away. I think back to skydiving, and reaching terminal velocity in the freefall: the weird sense of stillness, but of extreme awe and excitement.

Within a split-second glance, I see her looking back at me and I notice a small glimmer of the reflection of my eyes in her glasses, and I’m terrified with what I see: cold, judging eyes look back at me as I glimpse into cold, judging eyes.

I’m looking at her. She’s looking at him. He’s looking at me. She’s looking at me.

Our eyes meet.

I instinctively divert my eyes from the celestial horizon of souls and stars, look down to the ground, and close my eyes. All I’m left with is the rush of emotion, my heart pounding as it powerfully and forcefully revivifies my body. My thoughts, my apprehensions, are deafened by the heavy percussion within my chest.

I realize that I know nothing about them, and that’s all I need to know.

I’m alive again.

I’m falling.

I’m free.