I wish I could fly. Birds can fly. Mum always called me her little angel before she died. Angels have wings. Angels can fly. I am an angel, so why can't I fly?
I climb trees, but only when the sun is out and the wind is howling. It feels like I can fly. I put my arms out and close my eyes, imagining that I have wings and that I am soaring through the sky.
I haven't flew in a long time. The last time I did it, Dad beat me for it. He said boys don't imagine, that I should play sports instead. I don't blame him. No one has ever really been the same since mum died. My brother went to college, but hasn't come back yet. I'm sure he's fine. I'm fine. Dad's okay. I have friends, I have a family. I'm good at school. I'm happy. That's all I need.
a/n oops this is bad
