I can fly.

Not in a conventional sense, but I can still fly.

There's nothing I love more than watching the world whiz by, the wind whipping through my hair and ripping cold tears from my eyes.

My 'wings' can take me anywhere, so long as I buckle in.

Once up to speed, nothing can separate me from that freedom. I'll fly down the highways as much as I like.

Though the wind stings my skin and lesions of goosebumps plague my arms, I can't resist my flying time. I can't stay away from my 'wings.'

It seems silly, but my favorite thing in the whole world is to simply feel the wind rush as I hang out the window of my 'wings' like a dog, blink away the bitter tears, and grin like a nut as all my worries are left miles away.