I really like paper airplanes.

It’s not that I’m particularly good at making them, most nosedive after a few feeble feet of flight. But the fact that they fly at all fascinates me. It astounds me that something so small and simple could do something that I never could. I make paper airplanes fly because I can’t.

I stay here on the ground. Here with the dirt and the water. Here with you.

Maybe paper flight is fictional and false, but fantasy is better than the cold reality of standing still. I’m always standing still. I hate standing still.

On the other hand, I guess if I fail to finally fly, at least I’ll never have to fall. It’s safe here on the ground. It’s easy. So, for now, I’ll stay standing still. Here with the dirt and the water. Here with you.

I feel like there’s something profound there, but I haven’t quite figured out what it is yet.