It Felt Like Flying
When I was a child my parents used to take me apple picking every autumn. I loved the crisp cool air against my skin, the weight of the straw basket as it hung from my wrist. But most of all I loved it when my father held me up so I could reach the apples. When I was little I always had dreams I could fly and when he held me up under the canopy of green I felt like gravity was non-existent. Autumn was the only time that the prospect of flying wasn't trapped in a fairytale's pages. It was real. Beautiful was real. Perfect was real. Happiness was real. Everything that I wanted to be real… was real.
But real is not a fairytale. It's not a movie and you can't turn put it on pause or turn off the TV when you get tired of it. You can't control real. And real doesn't go away.
When I was fourteen me and my friends decided to go to a party the summer before high school. My first party. It was a rite of passage I caught in the movies from time to time. This forbidden, thrilling thing. And there would be cute boys there and maybe I'd even get my first taste of beer. It was such a new thing. It would mark my official ascent into adulthood.
I curled my hair and stole my mom's make-up and first the first time I felt like a young woman instead of an awkward, gangly girl. I loved the way my lashes curled away like little feathers from my green eyes and the way the lip gloss looked over my lips. I always thought I had a boy's lips, thin and unattractive. Kind of like lines kids drew on their oversized stick figure heads. You couldn't even call them lips. But the lip gloss made them look full. It felt good to feel pretty. It felt like I was up in my childhood apple tree, my legs dangling in empty air. That orchard was all I thought about as my friend's older sister drove us to the party. The cool air coming in from the rolled down windows reminded me of autumn and I could almost smell fresh baked apples. I had a feeling in my chest that tonight was going to be amazing. A defining moment in my life. And that feeling built up behind my ribs until there was too much pressure in my chest and I had to let it out somehow. I rolled the window down all the way and stuck my body out, my hands gripping the car door. I screamed and it felt like flying.
Flying was real. I…
But real was also the sound of my muffled screams against Andy Evan's hand. Real was the pressure of his body crushing mine. Real was the sharp, raw feeling between my leg's as Andy forced his way inside me. Real was the blood I could feel dripping down my inner thighs. I didn't even wipe the cum off my panties. I just ran. I ran and for the first time in my life cool air felt like knives against my skin.
Flying had been real. But what I had forgotten about flying was that you could never fly forever. Eventually you had to fall. For the first time in my life falling was real. Real wasn't beautiful. Real was not perfect. Real was not happiness.
And everything I didn't want to be real was real.