Doom became a sort of peace. As I fell, expecting nothing but death in the end, I knew there was nothing I could do. In that knowledge, in that acceptance, I strangely felt fine. All my worries and fears dissolved. I was free. I was doomed. I was at peace.
No, I’m not being a fool. I am not upset that you saved me. But I am trying to get something across, if I can. I don’t know the words for it. I just know that in letting go, in that realization—I think I said acceptance earlier—in that acceptance, I made a sort of peace with death.
Even now, though, I know that, no matter what I do, what any of us do, we all must fall, must die. I’m not trying to be morbid or something. I’m just trying to explain to you that my life has been a hundred times better accepting that it will end, accepting that I’m not in control, accepting that acceptance. Even now. I feel free.
Tale Told 