My whole life I've wanted to have wings, specifically with black feathers that had red tips. But I was told I was crazy. Wings weren't for humans!! How could they be, we'd never be able to fly if it weren't for the giant metal birds we built. Thinking back, it wasn't just wings that I wanted. I felt a special connection to all animals I met and wanted to be like all of them! But wings sticks out the most because I wanted to soar above the clouds like a bird, away from everyone who'd bullied me. Most of all, I wanted to be free. Just me, the gentle sound of my wings beating in the wind, and the cool, crisp air that would surround me. Wings would take me there, I just knew it. I was jealous of the birds I saw flitting around by my window each morning, they were so cheerful with their happy little songs. I would run to my dad each morning and ask if I could have my wings yet. Each time he would sigh and roll his eyes. By the time I was ten I realized that I was never going to have wings. I surely would've grown them by the age of ten, right?