Let Me Fly

I think they were afraid to let me fly – scared that if I left the ground it would expose their inner fear of leaving the ground. My flight would expose the fact that they were actually the ones that were supposed to teach me how to fly, but for one reason or the other, they could never leave the ground.

As life passed there was this voice inside that always told me that I was meant to fly – even nudging me toward the edge, daring me to take flight. Second guessing, listening, asking around, and running this “fly” things by friends, I wondered if maybe it was just gas or something I ate, or better yet, the introjection of someone else’s dream. Until I realized that the voice inside never quieted, and as much as I tried to silence it away, “fly, fly, fly” was always in the back of the head. As I got older, I could see more and more people in the distance leaving the ground, some even soaring so high they looked like ants with wings – and higher they flew until they disappeared.

Realizing that I still had time and the desire to fly, I stood, looked and day-dreamed, finding inspiration in all those that ever left the ground. Still hesitant about what I might be leaving behind and about what fantasies I might fail to find out there in open space, I still did not leave the ground. Then, one day they returned with stories of what it feels like to fly and of what the world looks like from the sky. They said, “all those mountains seem so small from way up there. Come on, just try it…fly.” Since I figured that gravity was created as an invisible leash to always help me find my way back home, I said “screw it,” and turned to all those people whispering warnings in my ear and said “excuse me while I fly.”

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