I’ve always wanted to fly.
When I was younger, and we went to the park, the swings were always my favorite.
I would close my eyes, and swing as high as I could.
I would reach for the sky, and pretend I had wings.
My hair would whip in my face, and the wind would sting my skin.
But the feeling of flying, free as a bird, made me immune to the world.
With my eyes shut, I could see in my mind, wherever I wished to go.
I could imagine the taste of the sky, and the smell of the clouds.
I could hear the sound of the breeze, and see the blue through the slits in my eyelids.
I wished I could stay there, amongst the clouds.
But at some point, I had to open my eyes.