I'm on a plane and eventually it's going to run out of fuel. It can't land and so it will eventually crash, killing me. Unless I get off it. Eventually I have to leap from the safety of the plane (Until it loses its fuel that is) and take the freefall, hoping that either my parachute will open, or somebody will catch me and break my fall. I have to.

Something can seem so permanant, enriching, needed and real, but turn out to be temporary, damaging, unwanted and fake. That's not to say that it can't have been a good thing once upon a time, but we have to lose our security blankets eventually. Well, not lose them, but clean them and hang them up rather than cuddle up to them desperately, as if holding on for dear life.

Oh I don't know, I don't know at all. I'm terrified, but I've backed myself into a corner, and now all I can do is take the chance and jump.>