This is a story of my life. It begins with love and ends with no regrets. During the exposition, I find myself getting taller. I feel like I could graze the sky with my finger tips. Everyone around me flew so well and I wanted to be just like them. When I was little, I could run really fast. The wind ran its fingers through my hair and my face was turned towards the sky. I felt free as a bird and I was convinced that I was invincible. I was a child of the wind. I ran about, flapping my wings because my feathers weren’t mature. I could only imagine what I would become.
When my wings started growing in, I found them rather stubby. I looked at them and wondered how I was going to fly. They didn’t look pretty or beautiful. There were some teenagers who called them cute, but I definitely didn’t feel that way. I felt confused because everything was moving too fast. When I ran in the green field, I noticed that there were more people in front of me. I strained and struggled, but I was always behind them. All the books I read were about how to kiss and dumping boys. I glanced at the boys and I saw them milling around with their pants too low to the ground. I wanted my wings to come in fuller, but it was taking a while and I felt like I had been forgotten.
I’m only 19 and my story isn’t over yet. Have I reached the climax or is it still the exposition? I still feel confused even though my downy feathers have mostly dropped away. I look around and see everyone else, seemingly ahead. I think I can fly, but I’m scared. It’s a long drop from the sky to the ground. Yet, I’ve many people soar and I’m convinced that I may also be able to do so. With each downward stroke of my wings, I go forwards. There are many times when the wind was too strong for me and I drop, but I never hit the ground.
This is my story and maybe you could fly with me. We could carry each other when we’re tired or we could be there to shout words of encouragement when the wind gets too strong. After all, we’re all part of the same nest.