They keep telling me what I can't do. They keep telling me I have to be careful. To be safe. I'm sick. I'm fragile. I can't be like other kids. I can't jump and run. My teacher says to be patient, that maybe I'll be stronger when I get to first grade.
It's not fair.
I've been swinging as high as I can go, the wind helps me feel better...
But the tears still hurt.
I need to get higher, even as the swing hiccups and snaps, I want to go higher. I want to get away.
Maybe... if I get higher enough... I can let go... and jump into the sky... Or... they could be right...