I saw this, and it struck me, because I know I do this. I fear rejection to the point where the risk doesn't even seem worth it. And that is the part of me I think I need to evolve out of, get rid of, destroy. Because there is a fine line between falling and flying. At right now, I can't do either. But I stare longingly at the clouds, watching people-birds who can soar up there, whose wings are spread wide and flutter elegantly. And then, slightly below I see those with a determined gleam in their eyes, whose wings are trembling as they seperate from the body, twitching and shaking as they catch the wind. Time after time, I watch the determined gleam become a look of wisdom, a look of knowledge and peace and trust in the wind. They soar higher, their wings like beautiful dancers, cutting through the sky, creating a masterpiece. I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for my turn to jump. But I am done waiting. This middle ground is bland, with bland people and blank faces who eat nothing and smile a half-hearted sort of grin. I want my cheeks to hurt. I want to try, and fail, and crash to the rocks below and feel something there, feel some hurt and feel some passion and try again. Because those on the rocks are never there for long. I see them, leaping off the cliff confidently a second time, and I cry out to them, asking how they can be so hurt and still find it in their hearts to continue, and I can be so unbroken and yet still so full of fear. I tremble and shake, my wings quivering limply, begging me to try. My mind and heart are in a shouting match, my mind saying Not Yet, Maybe Later, Just Wait, It's Not The Right Time, and my heart saying now now now now now now now now.