I wish I were braver.

I think now, I feel like I am on a plane headed for a skydive. It is awesome on the way up, filled with anticipation and a little bit of trepidation, but overall the feeling is one of exhilaration. I mean, WOW you’re going to skydive! Seeing the ground get smaller and smaller is so exciting! Everything is fine! And dandy!

But as the plane slowly climbs higher and higher, your excitement begins to wane. Fear sets in. Your fear of heights begins to set in. Suddenly it doesn’t seem such a good idea anymore. Oh dear, you think. I’m really about to leap out of a plane with nothing but flimsy harnesses and (what is essentially) a plastic balloon to save me from certain death.

Then you hear the voice of the pilot, saying “Okay, ready to jump?”

You look down and HOLY SHIT you cannot see the ground. All you see is SKY. LOTS AND LOTS OF SKY. NOWHERE SOFT TO LAND. HOSHIT, you think. HO-SHI-IT. I AM GOING TO GO SPLAT.

So you chicken out. You tuck your tail between your legs and say “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

The pilot gives you a pitying look, and then he lets you off, grumbling about wasting his time and money. He brings you down back to Earth and lands you on your feet.

You kiss the ground, ZOMG so glad for ground.

But that skydive didn’t end, actually. Eventually, you’ll have to get back up on that plane. The same process begins again. But this time, the pilot kicks you out of the plane.

So you scream on your way down. Scream so hard your throat is sore. Then you yank the lever, so that the parachute can save you.

BUT. IT. DOESN’T. OPEN.

Before you know it, you’re nothing but bits of flesh that the rescue team had to scrape off the pavement with a shovel. Brains, blood, bone and all.

Taking the leap scares everyone because sometimes, the parachute won’t open, and then you’ll end up splat on the ground.

The first time I got up that plane, I was excited. As I went higher and higher up, I was more excited. Then suddenly fear set in. I couldn’t jump. I was too scared. So I came back down, thankful, happy and glad.

But my plane won’t just stay on the ground. It will have to go up again, or else I’ll be landlubbed forever. So off I go. Only this time, the pilot really did kick me out.

I do not know if my parachute will open. Yet.

By now, again, you would have realised that this long and blabbering anecdote is supposed to be a metaphor for something. And it is.

The pilot that kicked me out (I mean it metaphorically, not literally like fired or nothing. I wasn’t fired) is somebody I (used to? I don’t know) respect. The plane I am on is my job here. And my parachute is the job offer that can be mine if I want it. But I don’t want it to be a sabotaged parachute, you know?

I want to be able to say goodbye to the pilot, who will wave and smile at me, then I want the plane to continue to go higher without me, and when I pull my parachute it will open with a smiley face.

Unfortunately, the ways things are now, I think my parachute will have a picture of my middle finger on it, and the pilot will probably throw a Molotov in my direction. Because like I said, I am a walking Murphy’s Law.

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Mine was. I wanted to just do my job to the best of my ability, HECK, do MORE than the best of my ability, and to prove that they didn’t hire me for nothing, and to prove I can do such a good job I will be indispensable to the company. I wanted to prove how much I cared. I sound like a fuckin’ martyr but trust me, I am not. Why the heck do you think I am on the road to Hell now? It’s because my good intentions were clearly not going down well with somebody. I don’t know who, but somebody is unhappy that all I want to do is work hard for the paper.

I am thinking that my actions have overstepped boundaries, because the boundaries were blurred in the first place. Am I saying I am innocent? No. I am saying that all Demons of Hell ended up there because they just wanted to do something ‘more’. More is not better. Less is more, remember?

So I am going to have to stick it out. My mind is made up, and I cannot turn back, nor can I look back. I need to yank that lever and hope to God my parachute opens.

Here’s to hoping I don’t go Splat.