We all breathe the same air. We all bleed red. We are all made up of the same elements. We all crave to love and to be loved. We all have one topic or another we could talk about for hours on end. We all are on a pursuit of happiness. We are all born, and we all die. We all stare up into the same, infinite, abyss at night. We all dream, or have dreamt, of a better life. We all require the same necessities in order to sustain our life. We are all human. Granted, we all have different specific details to us, whether those specifications are how we were raised or our financial situation or our race or gender or so on, is nothing more than the fine print. If we were to take a step back from pure individualism and look at us as a whole, it’d be apparent that we are all the same. We have each been dealt different hands, but we are all still playing the same game. Whether we have ones, sevens, or aces does not matter in the big picture. What matters is the fact that behind those cards, we are all just human beings, dealing with what we’ve been dealt.
If you’ve ever jumped off of a high-up place for the first time, into a body of water, then you have an idea of what my life can be like. You spend time building up encouragement and motivation to make the jump, wrestling your nerves to the point where they finally calm enough to make a cool and collected jump, or until they break into a panicked spring over the edge. When jumping off of anything, one usually estimates an idea of when they will land. When you jump off of a high-up structure, for the very first time, you tend to think that you’re going to land earlier than you actually do. For those few extra seconds in between your expectation and the surface of the water, you become mildly panicked. You plunge deep down, realizing you didn’t take in a comfortable amount of oxygen before you made your plunge into the water. This realization becomes more and more apparent with every stroke towards the surface. You start to scramble for your life, violently thrashing your arms and legs against the water, and right when you feel you’re about to run out of oxygen, you breach the surface of the water. The fear and anxiety subsides to relief and happiness, knowing that you made it through, what you thought, was going to be the worst.