You’ve jumped from a cliff, and now gravity has you.
It was intentional but you didn’t understand the consequences. You looked out from the lip at a beautiful sunrise and blue sky and a distant horizon and thought, “I want to be a part of that. I can be a part of that.”
So you backed away from the edge, about ten steps, and dug in your feet, and then sprinted, hearing an imaginary gun declaring the start of the race.
Except you aren’t racing. You’re alone.
And you ran flat out and leapt, arms out, reaching, and for a moment you arched up, and you smiled, grinned, a maniacal joy like rapture filling you.
Then you leveled off. Then you started dropping. Then you realized there was no turning back, nothing to grab hold of.
Now you see details on the ground getting bigger, what was a bush is now a tree, small rocks are boulders.
You are terrified by the inevitable, and your only hope is that you don’t survive, because you know the end will be instant but surviving will be long and painful and a burden to all who love you.