February 22, 2014 — 16:22
I remember when I was five years old and all I dreamed of was flying. I wanted to be a bird, a fairy, you name it. I wanted wings.
When I was seven, I still dreamt of touching clouds and eating them like cotton candy. I have vivid memory of jumping off of the swings and feeling euphoric as I was suspended in the air. Euphoria fell short of the black top when I scraped both elbows and both knees. That was the first time I feared falling.
Years passed and the fear had faded after countless childhood nightmares. I fell, I moved on. The fear had faded when I met you. I was so naive and I fell hard. I fell so deep down into you that I hit your roots and I stayed there. A year or so passed and I had forgotten how to get up. I tried so hard, but my knees kept caving in. I lay in the spot I had been with you for so long, it was far more lonely now.
Months have passed since then and I have found new roots to tangle myself in.
I now walk on the edge of piers and not fear falling into the water,
I now walk on the side of cliffs and not fear sliding down,
I now think of you with ease.