First Dates Taste Like Sarcasm

There is a sandbag tied to my ankle, and I have just had the pleasure,
of watching it be tossed off an airplane.
What a sight!
There she goes,
spiraling to the dissipated mesh of land and sky I see below me.
She goes fast, doesn't she?
It is my curiosity that leads me to lean over the edge, and watch this flawless, fate-deciding object dissolve from my vision.
My head peeks from the open door. 
The rope chases the sand,
the sand chases the ground,
and the ground wants my misery.
Down and down they go,
the distance grows, making best friends with the ground.
Shapes of 'S's' and 'W's' and 'Z's' just hurl themselves out of the plane.
Goodbye i say to the rope as if it has nothing to do with me.
But i look down and observe a knot tied to my ankle.
Normally,
I
Am
Fine.
But today, i don't have a knife, so...
i will be ejected.
There's really nothing to it,
i just sit and wait for my demise.
I mean...
it's that simple,
I never thought it would be so easy to plummet to the ground,
if I would have known before, i would have done this sooner.
We should do this again sometime,
really we should.
And I am tossed like a weak salad for being the nerd on the football team.
I look up at you, enjoying your time spent above me.
You wave,
you smile,
you giggle.
This is fun.
We should do this again sometime