Every time I do it, it's a rush. From start to finish. Waking up that morning is light, effortless, easy. Each day of the entire week at work leading up to it blends together to one seemingly continuous day. The drive to the airport, the conversation with the skydiving instructor, Ken. Not strained talk that so often characterizes, for me at least, the banter between anyone except family. Our adrenaline and excitement levels are so high, we're like fellow potsmokers--we have an instant connection. Putting on my gear, boarding the plane, rising in altitude. These events occur with the clarity of glass. I foresee and control their outcomes like a God. Reality is inert. I can grasp the time leading up to my jump in my hands.

And then the utmost intense rush one human can ever experience. Those singular moments, spanning about fifteen seconds, contain a month's worth of emotion. Your mind's eye eludes you as in dreams. I've found that whatever I thought about during those moments happened to be or would become the central concern of my life. It is the ultimate dream--fifteen seconds of do-or-die reasoning and emotion occurring at a velocity that's 100 times faster than normal.

And every time towards the end of the free fall, I contemplate whether or not I should pull the cord this time. Whether those last 14 seconds of hyper living, the symbol of my life as it is and will be, discouraged the continuation of this fragile existence. And every time I have decided the same thing: there is no reason not to pull it.

Even though my life feels horrible, shackled by child support payments, my excruciating job, my utter loneliness after work and how my co-workers don't know that I just go home Friday night waiting for Monday when I have to go to work again. At a job I can barely tolerate. No hobbies or interests except skydiving.

It occurs to me that I shall not pull the cord this time. But Ken's business might get in trouble. Wouldn't want to do that. There will be an investigation but it will show my equipment was functional. Just that my emergency Co2 cartridge didn't exist. An experienced diver like myself should know better. Ken should be cleared.

These thoughts and feelings flush my mind as the ground approaches.