I climbed a mountain in the snow with my bare hands and tennis shoes on. I slipped on rocks, stood on edges and nearly tumbled to my death. The top was beautiful. But I still felt empty inside. I still feel angry. I still feel broken. I guess, no matter the amazing things we do in life, we are still human. There's no escaping what you are, and sadly enough, pain still always finds a way of getting to you. And what they don't tell you, is how when you're at the top, it's beautiful, but then you have to find a safe way down. And sometimes there is no safe way down. And you have to just let yourself fall, let yourself get dirty, let yourself get hurt. Because it's the only way. And you start thinking on your way down, when it's so so far, was it worth it, to even get to the top? You start wondering if anythings really worth it at all. And you don't think about being alive or surviving or anything, you just think about getting to the bottom. Somehow it will all be okay when you're at the bottom.
Because then there's no more falling. There's no more pain, except for what you've already Incured. And you're just glad it's over. So in a way, I guess it wasn't the climb that made the trip, but all about the falling.
All about the part where you struggle where you never thought you'd have to; and watching as you survived it.