nirix5 | (no subject)

Last night I was riding on the back of Justin’s motorcycle, going sixty five down Route 31. Not an outstanding incident in and of itself, but I had the strangest urge to fling myself off the back of the bike. The rational part of my brain said that if I did something so stupid, and at such an odd angle, I would wind up quadriplegic or dead or horribly maimed and disfigured; but something else told me that if I let go, I would fly, and land harmlessly over on the shoulder.

I don’t know which of the outcomes surprises me more.

It wasn't suicidal- at least, not in the textbook sense- but it was such an odd sensation. Time stood still for those few seconds, and I knew I wouldn't have gotten hurt had I jumped.

I might not have ever been seen again, but I wouldn't have been hurt.