That Fine Line

She was treading on a fine line here, a thread-thin rope. It was so easy to fall back into the mess that was, and easier still to get back out. Sadly, the choice wasn't in her hands. Perhaps the answer was in the sureness of her feet; their ability to balance and take a sure stance away from the line. However, she knew how clumsy she was. She might be meaning to take a large leap away from the line, and out of this mess, only to fall back into it with great force, dwelling deeper than she had ever been. It was a dangerously fine line, laced with confusion and doubt and so much possibility. Most importantly, it was saturated with that little thing called hope.