Fall /fɔːl/
verb
1. move from a higher to a lower level, typically rapidly and without control.
2.(of a person) lose one's balance and collapse.
"It's not the fall that kills you, it's the sudden stop at the end" - Douglas Adams
The air around rushing. The surroundings blurring. I trust you know. We've all fallen. The surch of adrenaline, the body reacting. Anticipating the collision. And if anyone has fallen longer than a couple of milliseconds, then they know the feeling och questioning the landing, no instincts anymore but genuine fear and regret. What if had not done that? Or if I had not said that? Would I not be falling?
When you fall for long enough you become numb. You know that the landing is coming at some point, but you've been falling for long enough that you do not fear it anymore. You learn to long for the impact that will finally end it. Learned that there was never a worse fate than continously falling, and any stop to the suffering is mercy.
It is not until it stares you in the face that you feel the fear again. The surch of adrenaline that you wished would come for as long as you fell finally came. But it was too late.
The people along the way that reached out and slowed you fall, if only for a couple of seconds. Their efforts never ending but wasted now. No one managed to catch me. And now I will face the impact.
I fall down, down, down.
And nothing can stop the sudden stop at the end.