it reminds me of a short story by edgar allan poe name the imp of perversion he wrotes  we stand upon the brink of a precipice we peer into the abyss—we grow sick and dizzy our first impulse is to shrink away from the danger unaccountably we remain it is but a thought although a fearful one and one which chills the very marrow of our bones with the fierceness of the delight of its horror it is merely the idea of what would be our sensations during the sweeping precipitancy of a fall from such a height for this very cause do we now the most vividly desire it