I can’t seem to believe that I will hold on. Maybe my arms are just aching, Maybe I just don’t want to feel the branches slowly blister the skin of my palms, The free fall will be quick, Painful, but quick. I let go, expecting the ground to reappear harshly, slap my back, snap by bones, twigs soon to be forgotten. I feel the flat earth catch my feet. Knees bent for impact. Why? Had I hoped preparation will preserve me? Why have I hoped? I look up, standing on stable ground now. Look up to see the branch that I held onto, only a foot away from my reach. Some time between losing my footing, catching the branch and hanging for dear life, I grew. Just enough to close the distance. Ten foot giant, stretched by necessity, evolving to stay alive. How will I fit in to the old world? Too small for me now. It doesn’t matter. "Freak of nature, you’re still alive!"
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