Plunging to freedom?

It has occurred to me that whilst hanging from a thread in my claustrophobic chamber from a spindly geriatric branch, high winds do not create for me an advantage. On the contrary, I find myself severely disadvantaged by the sporadic gusts and abusive gales bestowed around me.

Each time the sky exhales I am swung high into the air which is only ever followed by a gut wrenching plunge towards the ground. A time where I find myself infuriated by gravity's smug victory.

An understandable dread of mine is that the thread which suspends me above this globe we all rely upon will give up the goat and obliterate before my eyes. That I will stare death in the face and become consumed into his red, drooling mouth with no opportunity to bid my loved ones goodbye.

I cannot permit myself to enjoy the ascent for the higher I ascend, the further I will drop, and that plummet may fail to remain connected to that branch I begrudgingly rely upon.

As I oscillate between a happiness I'm skeptical of and melancholia, I reflect on my life and how each feeling, emotion, experience and relationship mirrors the core rhythm I find myself trapped within. Despite the swings and roundabouts in my life, I still possess my feelings and emotions. I survived my experiences. And I have retained my relationships with those who mean something to me. Could I be wrong about the consequence of the severed thread?

If the thread did indeed snap, would I die? Or would I be freed from the tormented captivity I find myself in today?

Is it a risk I have to take? Or is there some proof of success? Which leads me onto my next questions, how do I free myself? And will it hurt when I fall?