Teenage Feelings - The Fall

It's not like me. To fall, into a hole so enticing, so deep, so empty with only one possible ending.
"It's so teenager of you."
But it's not like me.
I mean, yes, I know this hole. I am familiar. But I still haven't found a way to cling to the sides, to stop the fall, to "get a grip".
It's not like me.
I shouldn't fall.
I desire the roots of a tree to wrap around me, holding me in place where everything is motionless. Where time passes, yes, but I am stable. I am as confident as that tree to stay where I am and not let anyone sway me. Not unless they had a very big chainsaw, that is.
Stillness.
Instead, I fall.
Losing my grip, a quick slip of the hand when I was peacefully content with the world. The world of me. Losing my grip on the hopes of being carefree. Dropping into this known hole where hearts crumble.
The voice lulls me, a different voice than before, but nonetheless a deathly voice- so soothing and calm and deceiving. Eyes that piece through me, tearing me in two and paralysing me while I stare back, letting it take me, willing me to fall even deeper.
I must stop.
Small invisible cuts scrape away at my skin, almost covering every inch, hidden beneath a smile of optimism. I don't want to feel this- this ache, this wanting for what can never be.
I'm alone in this perpetual nightmare called lust. While I glare enviously at those that have someone to fall with- someone to hold their hand as they break like glass.
I am imperfect in every way that he is perfect.
There is no such thing as love, I tell myself. Only lust. When you fall into the pit of love, there is no recovery. So I convince myself, there is only lust- the need for something that will never be mine.
To be as stable and unwavering as a tree is a dream, to not move until forced to. To be glued to those roots, trapped in the embrace of loneliness, where my heart is protected from the inevitable.
But those piercing eyes and voice that melts the pain in my chest, it's okay to enjoy it for now though right?
When I reach the bottom with a thud or crash, laying there in the dirt and ash, another hollowness inside me.
At least I enjoyed the fall, before I reached the end.