Portals To Another World

/Fly\

~
The lights twinkle way below me, my fingers freezing to the cold hand rail, my bare arms surprisingly not cold even though it's the middle winter. The cold air surrounds me, the noise of the busy city just barely reaching me. From up here I can see the entire city, all the lights from the towers and the car lights on the street. It all looks like Lego from here, all the people as small as my finger. It's easier to breathe here, above everything, but still not completely easy. Easier but not easy.
I swing my leg over the rail, and stand on the other side, nothing to catch me if I let go. My eyes go down to the street below, I don't belong there, I never did. My gaze wanders up to the sky, all those stars, I want to belong there, but I never will. I don't belong anywhere. My eyes start to water so I squeeze them shut, fighting back a wave of tears.
When I open them again, my vision is clear and sharp allowing me to see more stars.
I inhale deeply, feeling the air and where my skin is touching the rail.
I let go.
Then the wind is rushing past my ears as I plummet down and down and down towards the ground. The streetlamps, cars and people seem to grow in size as I near them. My hair whipping around me and my arms now freezing cold, I laugh.
I feel alive. The ground rushes towards me, almost reaching up for me, beckoning my death.
Suddenly everything stops.
The wind goes back to calm.
The ground just a mere football pitch away, no longer beckoning me.
I realise I'm hovering in the air, something is gently stirring the air behind me. I try to turn to see but I only have to turn my head a little bit to see what's there.
Wings. Big and powerful and... beautiful wings.
I have wings. And they are keeping me in the air. In the middle of the two places, between the ground and the stars, two places I don't belong.
I fly up a few feet in the air and just hover there, looking around. It's easy to breath here, simple in fact. I belong here. In the air with my wings. Not on the ground and not high up clinging to a rail.
Everything seems calmer and peaceful. I feel more myself here.
The lights still twinkle and the cold air still surrounds me but, somehow, my lungs fill easier. My head clear, thoughts no longer racing with anxiety and doubt.
I may feel bad on the ground and bad hanging onto the rail but I feel good here, with my wings, hovering in between the two places where I don't belong.
~