Ivy is Not a Climber

Ivy the plant is a climber, a parkour artist of vines. But Ivy the girl - or maybe she was a woman? - she is not a climber. She follows gravity places it’s only been imagined. She’s got vertigo, or, less clinical: a penchant for falling from great heights.

Vertigo is the bodies desire to stay upright and the minds magnetism towards the failure. Once you get where you thought you couldn’t, the vertigo kicks in. We want to fail because survival is our instinct. When it gets too easy, we pull back. Humans feel most human when we are struggling. When we have nothing to struggle against, we turn against ourselves. When you turn against yourself, the desire for vertigo intoxicates. You want to climb higher just so you can fall harder. You want to fall harder so you can dress your wounds, poke your bruises, and go to the doctor, or the dealer, and fix, and stitch, and mask, and patch yourself back together; because you are your most apparent responsibility.