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She was happy to
feel the ever familiar tug of that last bit of the world that kept her anchored, happy to feel that connection again. Although
once again alone amongst so many, the pull and gentle pressure from her fastener filled her mind with such constant fervor
that her emptiness was soon neglected. How she had neglected and taken for granted this weight. The only weight she welcomed.
She allowed the weight to drag on her, to leave her in tow, like a balloon tied to a string… anchored, yet free to float
as it pleased without getting lost in the surrounding clouds. Free to fly without flying too near the sun. After all, flying
too near the sun had drastic endings… poor, poor Icarus.
Yet she was blissful
and serene here, allowing herself to forget the rule of three points of contact when all she really seemed to need was one.
Happy to float and to let her skin be kissed by the sun as she hovered carelessly over the earth below. But occasionally…
that thought… won’t someone ever bring me down? Won’t someone ever ground me with love and arms instead
of this weight that I press upon myself?
Wait…
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