No base jumping photographs, so I'm stuck with my hot air ballooning... It felt just as risky.
I’m hooked! Don’t tell me to stop writing. At this point I would just find something else to cram into the crevice. Living nearly out of control is equal to the thrill of BASE jumping.

I’m energized and each day is filled with extreme goals and ridiculous expectations that keep me perched and peeking right over the precipice.
I’d like to think that somehow, somewhere in the world of karma,[1] there are extra points awarded for level of difficulty. My risk ratio peaks at ten and the failure rate edges toward 100%, but somehow the back-up chute continues to inflate just in time to prevent the face plant.
Every close call is flushed with adrenaline and the rush is so exhilarating that it’s addictive. I really should be headed for rehab. I’ll schedule that in between, let’s see…

Reality Bite: Beware the strait jacket.

[1] Karma, I once knew a girl named Karma. How's that for messing with the universe?

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