Learning to Fly

     The idea of flying has become more and more intriguing to me every moment for a little over a year now. Before then, I never really thought of it. That may be because I discovered Owl City around the time. It was October 2009, I remember distinctly. Without the elaborately abstract lyrics combined with smooth yet lively borderline electronic music, I'm not sure how I would have found out I am indeed part bird.

  Obviously, it's become a terrible realization to me that I can't actually fly. Even my trampoline can't simulate the wonderful effect the right way. Somehow I feel like I know what it feels like to fly, and I'm constantly craving it, not only for the fresh and open air holding me and brushing all around and over me, but for the freedom it entitles to the one soaring. I literally stare enviously out windows and watch the seagulls, geese, crows, and other birds indigenous to my area floating around, occasionally in a neat "v" formation, perching themselves on a lamppost, or (a very common choice) finding an old Wendy's bag to ransack for scraps.

Lucky little birds.

  Monday night, I had my first purely-psychotic breakdown. I've had many emotional breakdowns, in fact too many to count, but never one completely out of insanity. The only part I remember really well is when I threw stuff out into the middle of my bedroom, making space to shove my mattress into a too-small space by my window, all the while desperately muttering, "I need to fly! I need to fly!"

  My friend has really bad dreams. She has had a certain dream for each friend that she's ever loved enough. In these dreams, they die.

  During my "episode", I texted her to keep myself a little in check. I told her I really wanted to "Run away and fly. Eat the clouds. Swim in the air."

That's when she told me she had her dream of me dying.

She said I had slipped off a cliff and disappeared into the clouds below us. She told me she thought it was beautiful and sad. She told me that my body was never found.

"Maybe you did fly."

  Lately, especially yesterday, I've taken risks I wouldn't have long ago. I've been telling people how I feel for them and my true emotions, or at least have been more honest and open. Many of my fears with people and talking to them have faded by now, making me feel a lot better, but the hardest part is beginning: Using my strength to eliminate my secrets.

Yesterday I told someone I trusted them.

Someone I'm terribly afraid to trust.

But someone I really love.

  I don't know what's going to happen, but I know that these risks can't ruin my life. I've been stuck in a spinning cold front for a long time now, and I've decided that it's time to change things. Perhaps my breakthrough has been a sort of flying for me, since it's definitely out of my normal element and it feels so good. This has been really good for me, actually, the whole structure of my change. So far, things look a little brighter and the sun has begun to rise again.

Here's one to my flying coach.

Even if he'll never know it.