Amy Float

She always loved the way the birds could fly without flapping their wings. The birds seemed to float in the air and she envied them greatly. If I were a bird, she thought, I could fly away when I was scared or hurt. If I were a bird, I couldn’t love, though. Amy couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to suffer in the dull ache of a wrent heart. She sometimes wondered to herself if she didn’t set herself up for this pain, because in the end she always seemed to feel this way, no matter what she did.
The hurt was deep, dull and somehow addicting. Even if I knew I would feel this way in the end, she scolded herself, I would still try…still open my heart. Still suffer. The burning from start to finish, pain and ecstasy. Amy thought that she was somehow dysfunctional and yet, she took some perverse pride in that thought. She could blame the men she had loved or she could blame herself for not being someone those men could love.
"Who knows?" she said aloud.
This was what the songs were about, this pain, she thought. It was somewhat depressing to think about so many people going about love the same way, suffering the same fate. Surely there was someone, somewhere that felt the same as her; that was capable of loving her. Why couldn’t she find that man? What a waste of time, she thought, what a complete fucking waste of time.
Clouds seemed to be the destination as the birds floated upwards and away.

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Before anybody freaks out, I do not think I am a woman, nor do I think I am a bird. This story is not a cry for help or a plea for Jesus' intervention. This is the kinds of things I write, and I hope you enjoy them. Please leave a comment if you are so inclined or moved.
~J