June 27, 2011

I rested my head on my knuckles and looked out the window. It looked lonely out there on the plains. There were homes and farms here and there, but I wondered what life would really be like there, without a real community. If you didn’t have a family, it would be worse.

I looked up at the clouds. There was one giant wisp that seemed to draw a thick line in the sky, but when I peered closer into it, I saw the tiny lines that defined its entire being. It seemed like a mirage—it wasn’t a full, solid thing. I could split it with a knife if I wanted.

I wish I could be a cloud. I would fly all over the world and watch the beauty in the world change. When I felt sad or happy for something, I would cry. And the best part would be the fact that when I cried, people would appreciate it. No one would be there to feel sorry for me or call me weak, because as a cloud, you should be weak.