The Point of No Return

It seemed suicidal at first, to jump off a cliff, but it wasn’t. I could hear young adults behind me, whispering of my eight-meter cliff jump. I already impressed many people. I did not need to go any higher, but the urge clung to me like a magnet, refusing to let go. It was the thrill of jumping off a cliff. It sounds really stupid. You might say I was losing my mind, or even drunk. But I was just being myself.

My family and I traveled to Boracay at the end of 2013, during winter break. While there, we decided to take a lively daylong excursion to one of Boracay’s main attractions, Aerial’s Point. Our jaunt kicked off with a forty-five minute scenic boat ride from Boracay Island. The majestic mountains and the shimmering ocean water made the ride even more relaxing and refreshing. The college students on the boat already started to dull their senses by drinking the inclusive and unlimited beer. All I could drink was coke. Aerial’s point’s crew even had a slogan: “The more you drink, the higher you jump!” After the short forty-five minute period, we arrived at our breathtaking eco-adventure destination.

Our adventure commenced as we departed the boat, headed up the cliff side-whitewashed staircase and settled down at a shaded table. “Why don’t you go and make your first jump?” my mother asked me, as I was taking off my shirt. I aimed toward the wooden plank for the eight-meter jump, not knowing whether I should be excited or nervous. Several people were already lined up. “Why don’t you go ahead of me?” a stranger immediately offered. “Go in front of me instead,” another stranger insisted. They were obviously horrified, and attempted to use kindness to hide their fear.

My strategy was to jump, without hesitation, straight into the ocean. By executing this plan, I would not have time to be pessimistic and think about how high I was jumping from. I walked off the plank and plummeted down into the abyss.

I felt the water gushing into my ears and up my nose. It was a bit painful but it did not daunt me because of my previous swim team practices. I quickly kicked my way back to the surface for a gulp of air. “No harm done!” I yelled to my parents as I climbed out of the water and up a ladder. The moment of triumph was ephemeral because I knew waiting for me was another challenge, the ten-meter jump.

The fire within me extinguished after a few minutes of rest. Even though my energy was dampened, the anticipation of an adrenaline rush enticed me to the wooded plank that stretched out to Poseidon, the wooden plank for the ten-meter jump. I hesitantly walked across the beam. Uh oh. Big mistake. Pessimistic thoughts started zipping through my head like pesky mosquitoes. I wanted to forsake my mission, but visceral feeling prompted me to proceed. Physically, I was a nervous wreck. My legs were trembling, my hands were sweating, and my toes were fidgeting. Emotionally, I was in a battle. Should I jump? Or should I not? It was the thrill of jumping off a cliff. It sounds really stupid. You might say I was losing my mind, or even drunk. But I was just being myself.