The Upside of Falling Down

by Rebekah Crane

No matter what people want to believe, life is locked in the past. It’s all we are—a timeline of events that make up a person.

When everyone in the world is a stranger, who am I supposed to trust?

When a person gets used to failure, it becomes much less scary. A person will walk into fire, knowing full well she’ll get burned, but it doesn’t hurt as much. When you’re prepared for pain, pain loses power.

“I live in the fear. I stop fighting it, and let it wash over me.” “You’re right. I don’t like that. It sounds horrible.” “It is at first. But then it’s not so bad. Fear wants you to stay scared, Bunny. But you don’t have to give in. You don’t have to let it control you.”

“There’s a moment bungee jumping, when you’re free-falling—” “Maybe not that.” Now my knuckles are turning white from gripping the ladder. “Just listen,” Kieran says. “The air actually feels thick. Almost like it’s keeping you afloat more than pushing you down. And you forget to be scared. You forget to be anything. You’re just . . . still and falling at the same time. At the end, when the bungee catches, you’re actually disappointed because it felt so good. It’s over too soon.” “Really?” “It’s the upside of falling down,” Kieran says. “It’s why you jump in the first place . . . for that moment.”

“You can’t be overwhelmed by the what-ifs, or you’ll miss out on the best part.”