fly away

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Massie Block has always wanted to fly. She spends her childhood watching Peter Pan over and over again, never getting tired of it. The movie captivates her; it's this surreal screenplay with fairies and children who never grow up. Countless nights are spent clutching her teddy bear, staring wide-eyed at the TV screen, her fingers coated with popcorn butter and chocolate stains.

"Massie, you need to stop watching that movie," Kendra, her mother, warns her every day. Massie is oblivious to her words, though, and continues to watch.

As Halloween approaches, she begs her mother to buy her a fairy costume, complete with a sparkly wand and fairy wings. They don't really work, but five year old Massie likes to pretend they do.

She uses the wings the weeks leading up to Halloween; her mother is afraid that she will tear the precious wings. Massie doesn't care one single bit.

She makes a game out of it, one that she likes to play when she's alone, because it's the only time she feels free. Massie stands on top of the hill overlooking the Blocks' extensive backyard with her arms outstretched. She closes her eyes and runs, pushing against the wind, almost tripping on sticks and leaves littering the grass.

And then, when she's run far enough, she jumps. There's this amazing sensation for a brief moment, until she plunges face first into the ground. But Massie could fly for a few seconds, and that's all that really matters to her.

She has wings, and she can fly.

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Her dreams are crushed in the fourth grade by her horrible science teacher, who teaches the students about something called gravity. Apparently, it's this invisible force that pulls objects towards the center of the earth, or at least something along those lines; Massie doesn't really pay attention in class.

Upon hearing this, her slender arm shoots up in the air. "So humans are incapable of flying?"

"Oh, quite definitely," her teacher responds. "If you tried, gravity will just pull you down." And with those short two sentences, all Massie's hopes and dreams fall apart.

Massie still refuses to believe, to understand what she has been told. Birds could fly, so why couldn't humans? Why couldn't she grow wings? She spends the rest of the day contemplating this, doodling wings repetitively on a sheet of notebook paper, wishing that they would come to life and becomes hers, so she could fly.

She goes home and tells her mother to throw away her old fairy costume (but the wings still fit), along with all the traces of her childhood. Tears are shed, but Massie knows that this is for the greater good.

It's time to say goodbye to her childhood, her hopes and dreams.

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The walls begin to cave in on her soon after, and in her sophomore year, they finally crash down. The pressure to be perfect gets to her. An alpha has to be perfect, she constantly tells herself. An alpha has to be pretty. An alpha has to be witty and funny. An alpha has to be smart. An alpha has to be athletic.

But really, was Massie any of those things? No. She stares at her reflection in the mirror, and sees an imperfect girl with her flaws on display for the entire world to see.

"Oh, Massie, look at Kristen, she's so athletic and good at sports. Why can't you be athletic?"

"Oh, Massie, look at Claire, she's so nice and sweet. Why can't you lose the attitude and start saying nicer things?"

"Oh, Massie, look at Dylan, she's so funny and carefree. Why can't you stop worrying, for once?"

"Oh, Massie, look at Alicia, she's so pretty and gets along with everyone. Why can't you be more social?"

"Oh, Massie, look at Kristen, she's so smart and gets straight A's. Why can't you get an A instead of the usual C?"

Crack. Crack. Her glass heart is breaking. Everyone seems to be more perfect than her. She's trying. But nothing works, does it? Everyone pushes her too hard, until she can't be pushed any longer. Perfection doesn't exist, my darlings. Massie just wishes someone told her sooner.

Her life is just an endless cycle of comparing herself to her enemies, her friends, and everyone in between. And she'll never be perfect, she'll never be good enough. No matter what she does, there's always someone who's better.

No one understands. No one is around to reassure her that everything will be okay. No one is there to tell her that she doesn't need to change herself. No one is around to guide her through the curvy, jagged road of life. No one is around to comfort her when she's crying. No one even cares. If she were to suddenly disappear and never come back, would anyone even notice? Would anyone even care?

Sometimes, all Massie needs is someone who cares. Someone to tell her that she matters. That isn't the case, however. People push by her in the hallways, shoving her into lockers, then leaving her there like she's invisible. She runs home with bruises covering her arms and legs and hot tears streaming down her face.

Deep into the night, no one hears her screams or sees her tears.

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One day, in her junior year, she finally breaks.

Massie is sixteen, and she has wings. They're made out of paper and colored in with pink, blue, and purple colored pencils, but they're still wings all the same. It's a gloomy day; every student has long since left the school. She stands on the top of the roof of the school, and jumps.

Her fragile wings support her, pushing her through the wind. She feels free, like she's five years old again, laughing gleefully and running down hills, attempting to fly. It only lasts for a few seconds, but they feel like infinity.

And then her wings collapse, sending her crashing into the ground.

Seconds later, her heart does too.