Paper Airplane

As I decide to explore the unknown, I discover and find how much everyone has grown. As I look to my comrades on my sides, I begin to notice the wrinkles and eye bags they can't help but hide. It seems silly to me how I had never cared to notice, as I stood here in line, how much everyone has changed, their personality and wit now even more defined. And for some reason, fear is what I feel, trickling down my back, making my mind cloud and reel. For the moment, my face freezes in place, each and every feature leaving behind a mark of utter disgrace. But not disgrace for those around me, no. Disgrace for the only one who I believe deserves it, oh can't you already see? We are all merely soldiers filed in a row, stone-faced and armoured with walls we had now began to grow. And as we are prepared to sail away, to fight to the death, a small and red paper airplane appears near my left. My eyes break away from the printed yellow lines, and they decide to follow that said creation, interpreting this as some sort of sign. And suddenly, my feet are walking towards it, my ice cold heart and brown and green gear, seem to no longer fit. Fear fading now out, how weirdly I find it exquisite. I reach my bitten down fingertips towards the sky, where the little red airplane seems to wander around and fly. And as I close my eyes, all I am left to hear is the wind, strangled noises, and those damned muffled cries. Suddenly, as if the wind itself had carried me, I appear inside this red miracle, and I am left unable to believe what I see. Clouds. I see clouds. Scattering the skies above me, screaming my own will to be free oh so loudly. And I cry, I weep, for as forsaken my life had been before, I have now a token of gratitude, another red airplane to keep. Oh how this somehow had been the answer I so forevermore seeked.
- d.g 5/31/17