Take a rope. Tie it into the tightest knot you can ever tie. Tug at it for years. It won’t move. Until one year, it starts to shred. You are holding on to the one end for dear life because if you let go, you are going down. Down off a cliff, free falling not knowing where you are going to land and what will be there when you touch the ground.
Take the rope. Not only is it tearing slowly, but also the person on the other end of it, is the one who helped you tie it in the first place. They are looking at you and smiling. Smiling while they watch you fall. In fact, they are the one who when you were not looking reached down into their pocket, pulled out the sharpest thing they had and started sewing away at the knot you two had once tied.
Take the rope. Use it to help you land carefully. The fall will be a painful one, but it will be a well needed one at that. Will it? I thought this rope was a symbol of what was to be held onto and cherished. I thought it was a bond for all the years and struggles and happy times spent by the ones on each end. Why is it now my enemy? Why are they smiling? What will be at the bottom? Huh Seven?
