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Hollow-Holler

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December 07, 2007 - 2:40

One of the predominant ticks, that carries on for days after, is the flesh scraping. Focused on the belly and perspiring undersarms, the sensation is like melting wax to wax; dreamy, malleable. But, I've given myself wounds this way. I get so strong and strange. My entire right shin was lousy with bruises and bumps, but I felt nothing sensational about them until a day had passed.
And what a day it was.
What spooked me so, and what I couldn't shake later, was that I had formed strong ideas about jumping off of a bridge.
A sort of self-imposed witch trial: I thought if I die, fine. But- if I'm not meant to die, obviously, I will be able to swim to the other side. I felt convinced this was reasonable. A good answer to an important question. But even as I was certain this rite was all but necessary, a scared, sensible haunt of me looked for an escape route...If my plan turned sour mid-air, I saw a wooden pallet in the middle of the river. If I jumped towards it, I wouldn't have to swim to the other side, OR die. An alternate plan full of holes, yes, but a smatter of sanity worth mentioning.
I never got closer than accessing at the railing and a foot dangle though, and I'm not sure why. I suspect it was because none of the bridges "felt right", which was a defined prerequisite to the dive.

Or maybe I simply became distracted.