Every time I look out of the window, I want to fly.
I’m addicted to the rush, the amazing feeling. I want to dance on the clouds, waltz in the sky, soak up the sun, and experience everything that comes towards me. I want to do air ballet with the birds, and breathe in the clean air. I want to ride upon Pegasus, into the endless horizon, because this is where I belong, in the sky, soaring, as high as my wings will take me.
I’ve tried so many times, but I’m always stopped by parents or friends. They look at me in horror, eyes widened, screaming at me and yelling, or calling the ambulance, and other equally asinine things. They’re furious, Mother is sobbing and crying, and Father stalks away. They threaten to lock me up. With them it’s always just lots of shouting, and I do not have the strength for that. I nod at them weakly, because I don’t have the energy to argue with them about this. It satisfies them, and I back off into my room again.
Oh, the sad, depraved people! What they do not know! The beauty, the heady wave of power that assails me as I plummet is heroin for me – exceedingly addictive, dangerous and beckons to me seductively. Every time I try to fly, red clouds my vision as I plummet from dizzy heights. As soon as it appears, it is replaced by white, so bright it blinds me momentarily, and then it clears. I see everything beneath me so clearly, it makes me want to cry out, not with fear, but love for the world. It is wonderful, the view from above.
I try again, for it is all I have ever wanted to do.
This time, nobody stops me. I go though earth-shattering visions of red haze, and see the world through fog, before it fades to blinding white. Blinding white so lovely, it is heaven before my eyes. Air thrusts hard against me as I ride a current of turbulence. I flap my wings experimentally as I am tossed about by the wind. It is a magical mazurka of the stuff that dreams are made of, a mélange of sugar and froth. I drown in it; I take it in, absorb it and drink it all in with large desperate gulps.
Sinking, dropping, suddenly it’s happening all too fast. Overcome by adrenaline and a sudden rush, I feel myself crashing hard. It’s painful, it’s sharp, it engulfs my entire body and I’ve come unraveled. But it’s worth it. I close my eyes, and I see all the images flashing way too quickly before my eyes, memories that I want to relish again, again, again.
It’s an experience, it’s beautiful, and I want it to go on forever.
I did it.
I flew.
0 Responses to “Wings to Soar”