Photo Friday: Complexity

His thoughts are a tangle of complexity at this moment: Is it easier to lean forward, to shift that center of gravity out past the building's edge, to give in to the urge to let the tension holding him in place relax? Or is it easier to let the fear shivering up the backs of his legs stop him?

He'll never have to say goodbye again if he leans forward. He'll never get to say hello again if he leans forward. He'll never fall asleep; he'll never wake up. He'll never empty the dishwasher or see the sky again. The grit of the concrete railing beneath his rigid and sweating palm will cease to be real; the last sensation on his palm will be either the feel of the wind tearing across it on its mad rush to and through his fingers, or it will be the sweat and grip of terror as he realizes, before impact, that this isn't what he wanted.

He wishes for the black and white of simplicity, and instead inhabits a multi-hued world, replete with more color and meaning than he can handle.