She wanted to disappear into the wind, guided by the voices that whispered to her of joy. They told her, "Follow your dreams." It hurt when she realized that she had never had any. It hurt more knowing it was better that way. She was a product of a broken home, only ever seen herself as such. Her future was predestined for her. She longed to be content instead of happy, because complacency appealed more to her than that constant sense of dissatisfaction.
Because, she could always draw. She remembers that song that used to inspire her, from that silly children's movie. It told her, paint with the colors of the wind. She used to hum it to herself as she dragged her brush across the canvas, the strokes unfocused and fluid like the wind she loved so much. The memories are all so vivid, and she just wants to forget because, back then it was just a hobby, but now it's all she ever wishs she could do.
She wants to disappear into the wind, because maybe then she'll be made whole again, won't be broken. Maybe then, she'll have hands.