Your mouth is dry. You’re not sure how your body is going to react, how your mind is going to react. (You approach her). You’re sitting in the seat.

You trundle forward, slowly, as you and those around you begin the climb. The sluggishness of the ascent, rather than dulling the fear, adds an additional edge in it. (You talk to her).

Your stomach claws it’s way into your throat, as if wanting a peek out your mouth when you scream down the opposite slope. You question your motives. Bravado? Peer pressure? Desire for the rush? (You go out with her).

And the view is incredible from the peak. It’s a new high. You can see further, you can think clearer, you are closer to your inner emotions than you’ve ever been before. (You fall for her).

And they’re screaming because you’re not up there anymore. The bottom just dropped out of your world and you’re screaming downwards. (You argue).

Your stomach isn’t yours anymore. The fear takes hold, you open your moth but the words aren’t there. Just silence, it’s like a nightmare. (She leaves).

You are well aware this isn’t something you can control anymore. The last choice you had was when you got on, then that was it. You’re in this for the full ride: fair or foul. You’re caught just before you hit the ground, you’re jerked off balance and your head spins and corkscrews. (She calls).

And you’re thrown back up into the air. It’s as if you were floating, flying even. The pace of it is incredible, you no longer have contact with your mind. Thoughts arrive only through a fog of sensations, all but drowned out. All the while getting fainter. (You fall deeply in love).

And the ride slows.

And it cruises around.

And it stops.

And you get off.

And you want to go again.

But there’s a queue.

And you have things to attend to.

Important things.

And you don’t have the time.

And you’ve done it now.

You know what it’s like.

Time for the real world.

Time to grow up.

Right?

What’s really important, in the end? What’s actually real?

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