Cherish It

by BabaLooWho

It's been more than a hundred years after the world ending apocalypse - but humanity has survived. It's then that you find a paper, yellowing with it's age and the writing messy. The paper is brittle, and you are amazed to see it doesn't turn to dust in your hands.

Life hurts.

Life is reality.

Life is not a dream.

Once, I made that mistake.

Because life isn't a dream, or a fairytale.

And because life is real, I have scars.

But that's okay.

Because scars show a story.

And everyone has a story, no matter how small.

I can't sing, I can't dance.

I'm not a social queen, and I didn't excel at school.

I'm a freak, and I know that.

Instead of breaking down and crying, I own it.

I know life isn't a dream because dreams don't last 30 years.

I know it, because a dream doesn't show you children locked in dog crates.

But now, with my family, I soar free.

I soar through the clouds, with my wings, from the 2% avian DNA I own.

I look down at the ruined earth, stare at the cities filled with trash.

I look at the lab, and shudder, remembering my life.

I smile slightly, grateful to have escaped. For my daughter to live a normal life.

Well, as normal it is when you survived the apocalypse as an embryo.

When you have wings.

I love my daughter's raven black hair, the way she's as stubborn as me.

How she prefers the name Hawk, to the name I gave her.

I knew she would choose a name, but it pains me just as much as that night.

The night I almost died, and had to leave her.

I have scars, because life hurts.

Because life is reality, and reality is not a dream.

I hope we can meet someday, reader.

It has been fun, hasn't it?

Good luck in the real world.

Please try not to destroy it.

Keep it safe.

Cherish it.

—Maximum Ride ~