I didn't know how free I wasn't

It's like that hill on a giant roller coaster: even strapped in and definitely along for the ride you still want to scream for someone to halt the throttling jolt of those last few feet and whisk you out of your seat.

But it's too late.

You're in and you're going to dive.

And dive and dive.

Mere hours from the first minute after take off I sit in what was my little slice of solitude and look around at the parts of the walls where my paintbrush went awry. It's so special and yet so foreign. And it's no longer mine.

And I'm still not quite sure if I really want to loosen my grip.

What if my parachute refuses to open?
What if my peanuts don't satisfy and I starve to death at 30,000 feet?

I don't care.
I'm going to jump into the fiery sunset and swim through the golden clouds of potential.

I am the only albatross in an abandoned chevron.
And I am painted with the starlight and hopes of too many years of restraint.

And me?
I thank me...



...for finally letting me go.