Building 11 “I Want to Fly”

I am not ready for this, but I know that I have to make a decision at some point, and sometimes you just have to go ahead and follow through, even if you aren't even sure if it is going to work out for you. I tried the other ways. I really did. I did really try to do things another way, but it didn't work, and now I am here, looking again at the precipice, and once again I am faced with the choice of what it is I want to do next.

And what I want is to fly.

I know it is impossible. Gods know that in a world like this one, the possibility of it would at the very least let me see it as being outside of the range of options. And yet, it is all that I ever wanted, and it is something I only really realized I wanted recently.

There has been a need for it, for as long as I can remember, a sitting discontent that I simply pushed away, because that is simply how I feel.

Being in this kind of pain is normal, and no one wants to hear about it.

Not again.

Not from me. Not from anyone.

At least, that is what I keep telling myself. And yet it is those thoughts that keep pushing me away from those people who really want to be in my life. Or maybe it isn't like that at all. Maybe people really don't want anything to do with me, and I had it pegged all along. It isn't that people don't like me, or that I am not fun or interesting to know, but I am not nearly enough to make someone invest time in getting to know me.

You try to know me.

No one really cares why I want to be who I am, and why I am trying so hard to be something that is so different from how I appear. You look at me, and what you see is so goddamn obvious, and yet it isn't obvious to me. I look in the mirror, and on those days when I feel more and more of that discontent building and building, I look in the mirror and I see the person people see when they look at me. And what I see...

It hurts more than you will ever know.

I know that there is something inside me that is happy, a part of me that I reach for and have been working on bringing out, and for a while that was so easy. Being happy was so easy, and then it wasn't, and I didn't even realize it. I was so busy going around, being so fucking happy for myself, that I stopped seeing that there was a dimming of the fire, and my heart was pulling away.

Into the bowels, where I am used to having it out of reach.

I know no one really cares about this. Fuck. I know that is just about the most unhealthy thought I have had in ages, and yet it falls into place like a comforter or a warm towel. It just feels right, even though there are probably nasty, awful things crawling all over it.

And after a while it gets cold.

So when I say that I want to fly, it sounds insane because it is insane, but more than that it is completely impossible, and I know that. Some part of me, an old part that is used to disappointment, it simply knows that this dream of mine is simply madness, and that I am setting myself up for a pain that I can hardly even imagine.

But, I don't care if I am wrong, because believing that I can fly, or will fly, it is everything that is keeping me going, and when I get sad like this and I start to hate myself again, and hate my life, and hate seeing pain and death day in and day out...I try to see the light, to be positive, but it is so damn hard, and the pain feels a lot like drowning, and a lot like having wings, but they are too heavy to be of any use.

Because I look in the mirror, and I know that I cannot fly.

But I want to more than anything in the world, and I would do anything to live.

Thinking that I can.

Believing with all my heart that if I really really try, if I do the work and pay my dues and let myself believe and persevere that there has to be good on the other side.

There just has to be.

Because if there isn't, if all this work is for nothing, then why the fuck have I been trying?

I have tried to find another way for years, hated myself for having this dream, and wanting it more than I have ever wanted anything else.

But I can't say no to it.

I have tried so many times to say no.

I have, for a while, managed to convince myself, that I cannot fly.

But...

If that is true...

Then why are there wings.

I know I can fly.

I just need to learn how.

Even if right now, they feel really, really heavy.