Dangerous Turf

This is dangerous turf, the edge of the precipice. Walking that razor, I can fall either way. I must be perfectly balanced. (But there is no perfect - only close facsimiles.)

I should really leave well enough alone. Heave myself off this ledge onto solid ground and run. Why play where you know you'll get hurt? Oh, yeah.... Because if I don't, someone else MIGHT get hurt. Why do I care, again?

All I have is cheap justification, like a rich girl deciding to become a whore because she wants to buy a pack of gum. (I think there must be multiple oral fixations if THAT's her reasoning.) But I'm really no better. I say I'm helping him to 'better my social circle as a whole', but perhaps my reasons are wholly selfish. I am well aware that his are.

Woah, dizzying! I shouldn't spin in circles when the dirt is crumbling from beneath me. Um, duh.... Common sense is a good thing to pay attention to. And it's screaming at me, lecturing like a dowdy matron at a party in a dorm room. "Damn it, it's dangerous! You're going to fall and break yourself on the barbed wire you spilled at the bottom!"

But, perfect balance....