I’d been standing on a precipice for a while, knowing fully that either I was going to be pushed or jump on my own volition. All I knew is that once I left the apartment I would never return to the place where I had been.
He’d been pushing me away with words that made me feel rejected, unwanted, wasted time. However, I knew that if I jumped, I may try to change my mind. 
So, I waited, undecided. 
Telling myself, time and time again that the next time he pushed, I was going to stay pushed.
He hadn’t noticed the small steps I’d taken, closer to the precipice. 
Like most fools who see only what he wanted, he hadn’t realised the meaning of the missed calls, the excuses, the promises that fell through. The diminishment of physical interaction.
I’d written prose for him, not a love poem.
In it I’d described his behaviour and how I was a torn about castaway in him, the brewing ocean.
It ended with a statement of how I wasn’t really present where I was but, wasn’t with him either 
(sailing on the ocean, him). 
I gave it to him, hoping that he’d get the hidden message in it, but he didn’t. 
Yeah that’s me, cryptic. Yeah that’s me, not saying what I really wanted to say. 

There I’ve been on the precipice, biding for him to push me away because I couldn’t jump. 
Then one morning I asked a question and he said yes. 
However, within 24 hours he’d changed his mind and I flew closer to the edge. This time, I vowed “I’m going to jump”. 

“Turn down the lights, turn down the bed ….”(Bonnie Raitt) filled my head.
He changed his mind again.
He was trying to push me in the opposite direction now. 
A burst of sadness filled me and I realised that if I jumped it was in the opposite direction of where I thought I was going. 
I hadn’t expected him to change his mind. 
I’d made up my mind at last but, 
That’s when I realised it was too late.
I was already falling. 

Kaukau's Life

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