i told myself I wanted to learn how to fly.
i know that sounds stupid and sure it was impossible but it was a dream.
an escape.
a way to feel at peace, even though it was not a lick of anything but false hope.
but I told myself over and over that this was an alternative – a way out.
eventually, what started out as an innocent get away turned into an addiction.
it became something I lived and craved for, painting an entire galaxy in the back of my mind, hidden behind a dull door.
i could do more than just fly – I was powerful.
i was loved and feared.
i stood on top of my Earth with a crown sitting crooked upon my head, a toothy grin spreading across my face.
i wasn’t me.
however, the impossible was still the impossible regardless of what was being produced in that door at the back of my brain.
my childhood began to falter and reality began to coil around me, ripping me from what was my home.
it was the angry dragon in every fairy tale … except the dragon won this time.
there was no prince charming, no fairy god mothers, no transforming animals.
just a child too afraid to face the outside world because there was no type of safety for her there.
only here, where her loneliness and frustration blossomed into a sea of sunflowers, could she find safety.
only here, where no one could point out her flaws and crack open her walls, could she find comfort.
only here, where there were no IQ tests or surveys to make her brain swell and burst, could she find peace.
only here, could she find a home.
but time after time the dragon opened it’s mouth only to heave out the tears and fear that tainted what was the only escape – the only thing that could be trusted with life.
