How does one determine that a climb is too steep, the rocks too jagged, the wall too frail for one to make? Despite seeing all the evidence, the hand just cannot let go of those jagged rocks; and each time they cut into flesh, the pain sears through the skin and venom gushes across my already weak limbs. I know the climb is pointless, and yet there I see my hand reaching out for that next rock. I feel sweat dripping down my brow, the hot sun beating the top of my head, blood flowing where fingernails once were. I cannot command my hands from pulling my already broken down body higher up. And the worst part, is that the higher I get, the tougher it is to climb down. Letting go is now futile. I can't let go. I can't stay where I am. Again I brace myself for another piercing pull upwards.
But what awaits me at the end of my climb?
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