fLiGhT

Yes. There's a wish to fly. A hope to soar above the world created. Yes. Flight. Freedom. No bounds, no limits, an endless expanse of blue as far as the eyes can see. I close my eyes, spread my arms, feel the weight being lifted from my shoulders. It's a wonderful, wonderful feeling, one of joy, and outlasting happiness. It makes me feel light. Light... And float...

And then I wake up, realize that it is nothing but a silly dream, a much-wanted fantasy. And my heart clenches because I know all of it was not real and the freedom that I have so longed for can never become more than a dream, a much-wanted fantasy. And it hurts me more, knowing, finally knowing and excruciatingly realizing that that dream is never just a hair-breath away.

But I smile. Tell myself that it is okay. That maybe it was all for the better. That life should never run towards that which is impossible to reach, and behold, and touch. And clamor for. And my soul sighs. I sigh, deep, long. Heavy. But the smile's still there, never wavering, never fading, perfect, the correct numer of muscles applied to its utmost precision.

No, I cannot say it is fair. I cannot say it is not fair. I cannot say, much to my chagrin, that dreams do not come true, even if I have spent my entire life doing what hurts the most. Dreaming. Because they do not come true. But how? In what way? Dreams are fading. But, after all, it is all in my head.