You’ll break easily, too. Snap like a twig, when the time comes.
When it all becomes too much, this world, and you decide to not let anything define you. And then you’ll go after the big ones, the laws with a capital L, and you’ll think - why should gravity define you; hold you down? Believe me, I’ve been there. When you realise that this world is arbitrary and we can fly if only we let go of gravity; forget all that bullshit they fed us in school about apples falling from trees. It’s not for me, and one day, you’ll see it’s not for you.
Oh, you want to try? You like my story? You want to escape from the chains of physics?
Here. Let me show you. Look at your hands. Do they tremble? That’s good, that’s good. Now. Push down hard on the table for a few long seconds. A few more. See they way they rise up, all by themselves? That’s the idea. But you gotta do that with your whole body. Try it. Push down with every part of you, push and push and push with every tiny bone, every single cell, every lonesome hair on your body.
Oh dear. Sorry. Did I forget to tell you? See, the thing about gravity is, the thing about it is that it doesn’t listen to you or I. It does change, though, it does. And it’s tempermental. And if you draw its attention on yourself, you never know what might happen. You can free yourself from your own personal gravity, but it has other plans with you. If you do it right, you can fly; persuade it to lay off you for a while.
But, if you do it wrong, it will crush you. Know how black holes get formed? Yeah. That’s a star who got too old and couldn’t keep gravity looking the other way. Much like you, except you waved a red flag in its face.
So I’ll leave you now, in your pile of juices. I imagine every one of your bones broke at once, every strand of cartilige snapped. Or else it started with your neck shattering and moved down your skeleton in a seismic wave of splintering bone. And now you are a slush pile; of reds and purples and little bits of dirty white. You’re leaking on the carpet. Try not to leave a stain.
I am sorry, you know. But you tried to fly, and you got crushed. That’s how it goes.