That’s Called Pride

Originally Posted on The Yale Herald - Medium via UWIRE

Reaching for support, soaked in disappointment.

This isn’t how clouds are supposed to feel.

You were soaring through Bordeaux with your chubby knees, gliding through the city towards a faraway cloud. You’d never seen one this close and you had to get inside.

You had a plan: float up to meet the others in the sky once the anchors on the ends of your legs stopped being so heavy.

Feet are a drag and you wish you could do without them.

Now you’re here, wet and alone. Your first taste of disappointment. A bitter, foreign feeling that starts in your hummingbird heart and spreads within seconds to fingers reaching for someone who can fix it. Why is nobody upset? Why is everyone ignoring you?

You don’t notice the golden-plated city. You don’t see the gothic castle peeking through the brick bridge. You don’t hear the rhythm of the rustling trees performing just for you.

You’re looking at everyone else, wondering why they’re not looking back. It’s always uncomfortable to ask for attention — that’s called pride.

You’re hesitating. You’re either going to notice the beauty in the world or realize you need someone else to help you feel like you’re flying.

Look at the city, notice the castle, listen to the hymns of the trees.

Stop reaching.

You are enough.

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