I venture into the mountains. It’s night, I know, but that’s the reason I’m partaking in this adventure. I am blind.

It’s true when they say you don’t really notice it when it hits you - it just does. You don’t know how it happens, and, quite frankly, you don’t really try to figure out what happened. You just go with it.

I always thought I’ve been in love a dozen times (an exaggeration, of course), but what I felt that time was different. I didn’t feel it at all until it was too late. I fell in love, and nobody - not even yours truly - knew what was happening.

We met under weird circumstances. I kept eyeing this other girl - not knowing that I would later fall for Her instead.

I’m walking through the mountains at night. I have no light to guide me. As my foot takes another step, it feels nothing but air, and, before I know it, I’m falling from a high cliff.

Our beginnings were nowhere near romantic. Texting was our preferred mode of contact, and we rarely did contact each other - through text, or otherwise.

There was something there. With every text, with every smiley, with every Tweet, with every IM, there was something there. As though every form of communication that was available to me was conspiring with the universe to help bring Her closer to me.

Through every text, I fell in love a little more. With every IM, I felt as though my chest wasn’t sending blood to the rest of my body.

I fall. I keep falling. I find myself enjoying the free fall.

Half a year later, I suddenly find in me the courage to ask Her that question I’ve been dreading to ask. The Heavens know the dread I felt with not being able to ask this question in person. The lack of physical contact with the other has somehow deteriorated the importance of the moment.

My friends laugh when I tell them the story of this moment. “You couldn’t set up a date?” they ask. “How lame of you,” they say.

“She said yes” is all I can reply. I know I could have done this better, but it is done. She said yes, and we are meeting in a few months.

Contemplation. I’m going to hit the ground soon.

She said yes, now what? Another two months flies by. Same old news. Little to no contact every week, stalking of Her online profiles, looking for every excuse to text Her and finding none.

I prepare for that day. It has to be perfect. Every little detail about my appearance, about what I should wear, about how I should act. It just has to be perfect. This very well may be my only chance.

She likes airplanes, doesn’t she? I guess I’m an airplane now.

The night arrives. Everybody looks all fancy in their suits and dresses and gowns. I pace the entrance nervously, corsage in hand, waiting for Her arrival.

My phone vibrates. I get a text. She’s here.

The clouds disappear. I can see the surroundings. Here I go.

Everything was wrong. I did everything wrong. I didn’t compliment Her radiant beauty, I didn’t help Her up the stairs. Everything was wrong. I messed it up.

Her car was waiting for Her. She is going to leave, and She knows virtually nothing about what I feel for Her. I don’t tell Her. I won’t tell Her - not for a while, not while I’m still lamenting over my failures.

I am nothing.

I did everything wrong, but that’s okay. I will always regret it, but that’s why you get back up and fall again.

I get up, ready to climb the mountain once more.