Tumble
  into sadness. Face first. Realizing that you’re gone. Not the warm
  feeling you get when your clothes come fresh out of the dryer.
Crash
  Stepping foot off the edge of a mountain, pitching into the dark,
  menacing rocks below. Not the feeling you experience when
the leaves start to

f
a
l
l

in October.
Burn
  like the stomach acid that singes the back of your tongue as you fight
  to grasp onto down every last bit of hope that remains in your
stomach. Not the feeling you draw from sipping tea that is scorching
soothes your sore throat.