i went skydiving for the first time for my 21st birthday.
during freefall there was no oxygen and i couldn't breathe.
i still haven't processed it fully. a skydiver drove me home.
listening to him speak about skydiving took my breath away, again.
imagine each sentence being said slowly with full confidence from a weathered man with kind, dead serious eyes.
it's incredible that we do this. we choose to commit suicide, and then we choose to save ourselves. then we cannot wait to do it again.
you forget the other people on earth. you're either a skydiver, and i care about you - i'll house you, feed you, anywhere you are in the world if you're a skydiver you find a drop zone and that's home, you'll be safe - or you're not, and i don't care about you.
it's ritualistic - you have this door, where the sky streams in, you hold onto the edge of the plane, you let go.
everyone laughs in freefall. all your worries fall away - they are on earth.
unrelatedly (or maybe relatedly), he also said:
you are deep. you get it, you see it. you're awake, and you're listening, and girl, Silicon Valley has nothing to offer you. leave.
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