There are days when the only way to feel the wind is to take to the roofs. Even within the limits of Arkadi they can’t stop the air from moving entirely, no matter how they try. The distence from the city below helps, as does the breeze on my face. It makes me forget it’s just as trapped as I am.
Forget. It’s something I do a lot of, have for so long. It’s easier, after all, to start over that way. To drop everything and run, escape from the cities like the wind through the exit ports.
I don’t want to run this time. I want to stay here and fall to pieces. Even though I should know better, I want to trust them to pick me back up. I want to believe they need it as much as I do. I want to believe it’s love.
It’s a little bit fucked up. So what else is new? But it’s been so long since I could really rely on someone. I think I’d be anything they wanted, anything they needed. I can even live in this bubble, blowing around in recycled circles like the wind. That’s part of the price if I’m right.
But if I’m wrong, everything is destroyed.