why am i stuck here on this ground? i wish i could fly away. the sky is so, so much taller than i am, and i can't stop thinking about how short i look from way up there. i want to swim in the air and play in the clouds. then i could look down on all the other people and they will be short and i will be the tallest! all the people who can't fly will be like bugs. come on, arms! turn into wings for me! my hands could be wings and my feet could be hands, since i wouldn't need to walk anymore. is it my shoes that are holding me down? why are my feet so heavy?
i had the most beautiful thought the other day. all my little balsa wood airplanes that hang from my ceiling came to life and buzzed around the room with real engines. they let go of the ceiling with their strings and tied themselves onto my chair and lifted me up into the air and took me for a ride.
if happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why oh why can't i?
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