…and I walked on so many trails and over hanging-rocked-cliffs, and maybe I was still a bit depressed er somethin’, but I felt like I was sick in the head when I wanted to jump and free-fall over this huge cliff, and not ta’ die, but just because I could do it. It was my choice, my choice to live, not to die, and that’s what the word freedom is, at-least to me, and it was real freedom, the freedom of the will, the decision that was mine alone to make, to you know, to just do whatever the hell it is that you want to do. Real freedom, not this political mumbo-jumbo, but this idea, this physical two-sided choice, and if I wanted to jump, well I could, and if I wanted to, well nobody could stop me, I could just kill myself. But life was what it was, what it is, and nothing hurt that bad, peace happened often enough for me, and those bad times, well I kinda started to enjoy them too.
I looked over the cliff, cold, it was a much colder day than usual, which meant the water was really cold, and well, I remembered, that I didn’t like to feel pain, and also, what if I didn’t die and just hit my head on a rock or somethin, man that would hurt. Thinking this, well I just carried on the trail, further on into the woods, and so be it, because on this day, as on most days, well livin’ was just a’ good enough for me.
Adventures In American Writing 