Free FallingMore Like This
The wind was frigid as ice. Sharp as razors. Coupled with the delirium of being amongst the clouds, she felt more alive than she ever did on the ground.
"Ready?" The deep voice crept into her ears.
"Aye," she gasped. They were higher than they'd ever been. Her body shook as much from want of air as it did the cold. She dug her nails into the dragon's pale scales and stood on weak legs.
She stared up at the sun. So close, she could almost touch it. She smiled as its warmth cut through the cold air.
She lifted her arms up as high as she could.
Not close enough.
The sky grew hazy. Blue to grey where there were no clouds.
Time to go.
"I'll be waiting," he rumbled.
Of course he would.
Pain rushed through her veins. Her body warning her of the fall.
Plummeting. The razors were knives now. The cold burned.
The clean air filling her lungs more and more until she could see straight. Blood rushing to her head.
The icy ocean below grew focused. Another surge of
This Is For YouThis is for you.More Like This
This is for you, who would always say that you weren't 'good enough'
This is for you, who would always wish that you were as good as them.
Sometimes, you throw your pencil across the room in frustration when you realize that you'll never be an artist.
Remember when you told yourself that art was a passion that you would never let go?
But yet, it's slipping between your fingers, right now.
You want, so desperately, to be an accomplished artist.
But you never believe in yourself.
It's painful, I know.
But isn't art worth it?
Maybe you just don't know the meaning of being an artist.
It doesn't matter what you do, or how skilled you are.
The fact that you love art, is all that matters; and that's what makes you a true artist.
Don't you remember your art bringing you so much joy?
Now, it seems to do the complete opposite.
It seems like demons are haunting you, telling you that you're 'not good enough'.
You want to know what I say to tha
Caged InWho would have thought the years being locked in a cage would be the happiest time of my life?More Like This
I used to dream about gliding- my wings spread wide as I rode the breeze over a horizon that went on forever. I would wake in the dark and scream out in frustration, hoping that someday I could sing my real song.
The nights became longer and the dreams became unwelcome. You see, when I'm too caged in, fantasies are more like nightmares, taunting me, teasing me; a blatant reminder of what I can never have.
It was all I wanted. It was everything.
I escaped the first time the opportunity presented itself. Barreling through the unlocked door, I ran down the table and leaped through the open window with wings unfurled. I sang then, the sweetest noise I have ever made.
Until I fell.
I had never truly experienced the sensation of falling. It wasn't as peaceful as I imagined. It was terrifying.
I thought flying would come easy. I thought I would simply beat-be