Flying Fish

A journey of self discovery from the scaly world.

It’s like I’ve been swimming above water, holding my breath.

Everything seems to be so far away, yet so close….

Am I flying? I’m not sure where I am. All I can see is movement. Colours. All I can hear is the crashing sound of the waves.

And the rain.

Suddenly I am not alone. I can feel their presence jumping as if they are telling me to stay afloat.

They push me and push me and push me… I’m scared.

Now I’m beginning to blame myself. Perhaps I should have stayed right where I was, and continued thinking that the world above was exactly what they said it was: cold and empty.

“If you jump you will die”, they said.

“If you stand out, they will catch you”, they said.

“Conform”.

“Follow”.

“Don’t think”, they said.

Should I thank you, God, for giving me wings? They gave me hope, they made me fly and for an instant I felt so free.

Then I’d plunge back in and think that next time, I would fly higher. I’d stay above longer. In school that’s how it goes anyway.

I always had this feeling like I didn’t belong. I was neither here nor there.

Neither was I able to choose. Air or water? I need more time.

I can hardly breathe now and the rain is falling.

I can hardly move now and my heart is dying.

A net is holding my life.

I cannot move and yet they call me: Flying Fish.

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