Alone, no hope.

Her curly auburn hair swallowed her neck like the ocean swallowing the sand. She likes to hide behind her curls because she says you can’t really see how hideous she really is. The truth is, she’s not. She has the bluest azure eyes ever, and her face is overcome with angelic freckles, which she hates…but I adore. She’s so venerable to what most of her peers say to her, and I think she getting to that point where she’s starting to believe them. 1

I love her, I’ve always loved her. Since the age of 3, when we would sway back and fourth in the old tire swing, on the even older hollowed out willow tree. She’s my best friend, and I think she always will be. She’s different and I think that’s what attracted me to her. There is only one small problem…I have wings.2

I can’t deny having feelings for her but I don’t think she acknowledges even if she had the chance to, because I’m like a brother to her. I cant possibly imagine what she would do if she ever found out, nor do I want to. I’m already a burden with my own family, I’m isolated, and cut off from the outside world. I have to live in my own little bubble of sanity, and I can’t really say it’s keeping me all that sane.3

I have to hide them, my wings. It’s not really all that hard because if feel as if they are paper thin, and it does not take much to conceal them. 11 years of hiding them, from everyone, from her. I can’t hide, not anymore, ever again. The weight on my shoulder is enough to bear but it just keeps getting harder and harder everyday. It’s heavier, and its just making it to difficult for me breath these toxic fumes of air. My legs are to the point where they will buckle, and I will fall with everything, my once pride, dignity, and any hope of love. I just keep walking on the paved sidewalk, staring at the pavement. Watching the last hope of anything tremble down my face, in the form of a tear.4