The day was August 11th, 2014. It was nearly noon. A great man sat in his bedroom, trapped by a cloud of darkness, looking for a way out.
A small, frail bird zoomed past the window, fast. Almost as if it was the fastest thing in the world, it soared through the skies, toward something. Or maybe, away from something.
The great man felt jealous of the bird. It had the option to fly, to get away from whatever pain or sorrow the world had burdened it with. The man wanted to get away too.
So he flew away. And as he began to fly, it felt nice to be away from all of the sadness in the world. It was bright up here, where as below it was dark. It was warm up here. He was happy up here.
Then, it became cold. It became dark too, and he could see nothing. He could not even see the ground below him, which did not seem so bad now. His feathers began to fall off, and as he left them behind, he realized what else he was leaving behind.
He tried to turn back, but a strong wind kept him in the air. He tried to touch the ground, but he could no longer see it. There was no waking up, because this was no dream, and there was no drifting back to reality, because he was already apart of it.
I did not know this man personally, and he did not know me. Yet, he has brought me pain. With this pain, however, has come chilling clarity. I now realize that there is no turning back. I now realize that if you fly away, you will never touch the ground again. I just wish that those who try to fly away, would realize it as well.