Why do people gather at waterfalls? Is it the whooshing white noise of the water hitting the rocks? Or perhaps it’s the smell of the moisture in the air from the water droplets. 

I’m here to think. Obviously I’m not doing much of it if I’m sitting here writing instead. There’s families here, and an older lady sits alone in a lawn chair enjoying the view. Maybe she’s here to clear her head too.

There’s a tree obstructing my view of the entire falls, but my perch is too comfortable to move. I better figure that out. Whether I want a full view or whether I want to stay comfortable. Ah, I guess I have come here to think. 

What to do about this feeling I’ve been carrying around? I don’t know how to describe it. Maybe I could try. It’s like falling into the water right below the falls. 

At first it’s refreshing, cools me off, and soothes my skin. Then I start to sink, and can’t make it back up. Fuck. There I go drowning again. The waterfall analogy feels too real. 

Maybe that’s why I chose to sit by one. The imagery starts to sink into my brain of the last time I sank beneath a falls and I feel a tightness in my chest. 

Suppose that’s why I told my mother I loved her the other day. Also probably why I skipped out on work to go hide in the Green Mountains of Vermont. 

I laid out in an open field I came across in the middle of the woods, no clue how to return to my car on the side of the road somewhere.

I started laughing. Not a funny laugh, more like a hysterical laugh. How funny my life is, full of side quests. But what is the main story? I haven’t quite figured that out.