THIRTY - JAMESON
Loving Roman was like playing a game of trust fall—the game where you blindly fall backward on a hope and a prayer that your friend would catch you. You trust them not to let you hit the floor flat on your back.
Roman was that friend standing behind me, and I was the one letting go.
Just fall. I’ve got you.
Hesitantly, as the rules go, you start to lean back. Further and further, until eventually you reach the point of no return, trusting there’s someone there to catch you before you hit the ground.
Except when I leaned back, I kept falling.
And falling.
And falling.
Down into a dark and lonely abyss. There was nobody there, no arms to catch me, no one to save me.
Trusting him again felt like I’d taken a swan dive off the top of the Empire State Building in complete free fall—no safety net, no parachute. Just me and my body versus gravity.
And I’d just landed face down on the sidewalk below.