I am terrified of heights.

Not sure how it started,

But whenever I reach

A certain threshold,

I see myself tumbling over the edge

And smashing against the ground,

Or something to that effect.

 

But I’m stubborn.

I’ve never liked

Allowing my fears to have

Power over me.

 

When I was little,

I begged my parents to

Take me on escalators.

The entire way up,

I was a frenzied mess,

Tears rolling down my cheeks,

Face flushed,

Body quivering.

 

But as soon as my feet

Grazed the firm ground,

I’d tug on my mother’s shirt.

“Again!”

Up I went, and

Down the tears trickled

“Again! Again! Again!”

 

Now, I go rock climbing,

Trek to the tops of mountains,

And have marveled at the blinking city lights

From atop the Empire State Building.

 

The tears no longer fall,

But my body still trembles

At the sight of the

Beautiful little world below.