Being a part of something was never really of great importance to me.
In life, I am floating- a balloon let loose to brave the sky with no real destination in mind. Not even the wind guids me. I am truely alone.
No, that’s a lie.
I’ve always had a feeling. A burning in my chest that told me I did have a destination, a goal, something to live for. This is the earth beneath my feet, the sky above me, my cage of earth and old. I cling to the bars, pressing them to my cheek until my body is imprinted with proof I truly exist.
This feeling has always been there, and has become as much apart of me as the skin that holds me solid, as the blood that makes me warm.
I feel, I am here, I am real.
Still, i have yet to discover this destiny.