There are days where you’re alone on an ocean
in a paper boat,
watching as the water eats its way up through the hull. Turning the thin folds between you and the sea to a mush so useless it will break beneath your weight in an instant.
It’s only a matter of time, really,
before you sink

And there are days where you are flying.
When you open your eyes and realize that the wind you feel combing over your face is not from falling, but from the glide of your skin through the air as you slice
deliberately through it.
With wings instead of arms,
and a red balloon where your heart used to be