How to Get a Leg Up in Life The First Second Cut (The Wrong Right)(Part 1) But don’t you remember? We’re already on a mountaintop… The mountain doesn’t care about fairness. It doesn’t care that two best friends are locked in a standoff of shared guilt and broken promises. In the end, we both know what needs to be done. To preserve what’s left of our humanity, we decide. Fairness. The word feels hollow now, echoing through the frigid air. The only way to make it truly equal is to cut the other’s leg. And so, we do. The first slash is jagged, and the second more sure. Blood spills, staining the pristine snow, as the mountain watches with impassive silence. Neither of us flinches, neither of us protests. We are both asshole and savior, bound together in this superpositional truth. As the light fades, the mountain becomes quiet again. It holds no malice, no judgment — just the weight of eternity bearing down on the fleeting lives of two best friends who loved each other enough to destroy themselves in the name of fairness. “I’ll go first this time,” you say. Your voice is dead, hollow, as if the words are a corpse you’re dragging up from the pit of your soul. I nod because what else is there to do? The knife feels heavier now, colder, as if it knows what’s coming. Your eyes meet mine, and I think I see something — a flicker of regret, maybe, or fear. But it’s fleeting, swallowed by the endless void this mountain has carved into us. There’s no room for second thoughts anymore. There’s no room for anything. But don’t you remember? We’re already on a mountaintop…
