My life and my eyes look so towards the sky that it scarcely notices the calamities within. I look inside the valley but there are years of rain, and I wonder how I could drain the plains again, to stop them from being so heavy. That beautiful blue sky was so unattainable, that now as my wings float me above I look below and realize they stark horror I was blind to. It seems only once I was above it that I could really see how everything is drowning.

But how do I change anything now? I'm not apart of the place I left long ago, and I have no ability to go back. The shadows of those deep waters are something I can't even picture anymore.

Sometimes, though, if I see a bright red ribbon or a piece of glass, I'm painfully reminded of where I can't go back. The place I ran from and forgot only to awaken once again. Nobody may have blinded me and after so long my eyes are clear once more. But I almost wish I were still sightless to save myself from the horrid landscape that was previously what I called home.

I may be equipped with my strength after so many years of jumping off cliffs until I couldn't fall. Yet it still doesn't make horrible things any less horrible. It only ensures I won't jump off again and this time refuse to fly.

I know my worn, hardened heart wishes only to push all of it away, to pretend none of it happened. But I know at its core, the softened part warmed by kind hands, that its something I must face and use to grow even more.

The misery of my land and the rain and the pain are hard to bear. Its more than any person deserves to bear. But perhaps it will only make me better. Perhaps it will only make me stronger. Perhaps, after I survive this too, this time I can fly to the stars.