Love is a trap, and I’m the hole you fall into. You can try and go around me, jump over me or just outright turn around and go the other way, but eventually I catch up to you and eventually you will fall. The way I see it, since this trip is inevitable, you might as well fall with as much grace as possible. This way, you’re less likely to break a wrist or ankle on the way down. Sure, you might get bruised, but bruises heal faster than broken bones. Most people try and make it difficult, falling in backwards and then hitting their head, arms, legs and every other limb possible on the way down. They’re so oblivious to the branches and stepping-stones that line my walls to help them because they have already turned their back on them. If you were to only turn around right before plummeting, you would see a branch twenty feet down, one strong enough so that you could grab onto it during your descent, breaking your fall. You could do it the whole way down. But people just fall, trusting my infinite blackness to engulf them in a mothering hug. And those people, they never escape. They’re forever condemned to falling in the abyss.