One day, I am gonna grow wings

My heart beats faster. I don’t know if it’s because of the coffee I drank several hours ago, or it’s because I asked ChatGPT to give me a writing prompt, challenging me to write about something vulnerable—the hidden and unspoken thing I want people to know about me.

I stare at the blank page with a confused look on my face and a heavy feeling in my ribcage. It is not something with weight, but it’s a sharp lightness I couldn’t quite find the words to explain. The sky is turning grimmer, but I am not, though I should, perhaps?

This is a tough topic to write about. However, my tears are kept in place, unlike the usual days where it just flows. Hence, I feel tied with that fact. I grab the rope gently and untie them, just as easily. What just happened? It was not usually this effortless. Am I free or not free?

The things I wish someone knew about me?

What are they, you think? Should I know the answer to that? What if I don’t? Does it even matter? Do I even have that kind of wish? Am I asking too much? Am I thinking too much? Am I too much? For you… or for myself, perhaps.

Oh—

Okay.

I am a lot to take in, even for my own mind and heart—Am I not?

People do not know about this? Did I not allow them to? I don’t remember.

I only explode within, but I always explode either way, like I needn’t no permission for it.

Why didn’t I realize this sooner?

I am, indeed, too much. So I hide. And I’ve been excellent at doing so.

I wish people would stop questioning and just see me raw.

The things I wish someone knew about me?

I desperately yearn to be seen by you, but I flinch at every glance you give. And it hurts me every passing second. Breathing in the same air feels enough, but I’ve always been good at lying to myself. So don’t be a fool and believe it. I’m on my knees, begging you to both see me and leave me alone. And it pains me plenty.

Do you ever notice?

The way my breath hitches and trembles when I attempt to show you a piece of myself. Some of you crumble it, some others look away, a rare one holds it and even emphasizes it although I am subtilizing it down.

Everything feels too big for me to swallow, I couldn't quite keep up with the world—maybe you notice that about me. Being the careful strategist that I am, retreating inside my shell is not that difficult, therefore I do so. It is nobody’s fault, it’s just how the stars align. I am still complaining, and a lot at that. I am probably a snail that yearns to be a bird in my past life, and that is the tragedy that I couldn’t swerve from.

But that’s just what I believe, isn’t it?

It feels absolute, but nothing truly is. So, here I go.

One day, I am gonna grow wings.

Whatever that means.