Notes on the Process
I cannot decide if I would prefer my bones and muscles remain light as they were, or adapt to my new body… my pride tells me the former is the truer path, but the latter certainly helps with all of the new bruises.
I suppose I have no choice in the matter either way. I don’t understand yet what decides when I… adapt… or advance. Advancement came, among bruises and abrasions that nevertheless taught me about my composition in a way I was unable to study before. I asked my brothers and sisters, pleaded pathetically with them to tell me how I can regain myself, and finally when I did beg they told me to learn like they did- jump, and jump, and jump until you fly.
I felt like a fool, but what else could I do? An unconventional path? Undoubtedly. I know no one else who jumps off rocks and screes as I did, tumbling through the grass… until finally, it clicked. I’m ashamed to admit the breaking point was hearing laughter in the distance, I’m not even entirely sure on human or corvid, but it enraged me as I climbed up the cliff and I felt I would do anything to fly again.
And it pulled from me like fishhooks on my essence. Stretching my soul out like a rubber band, if only for a moment, back into the shape it remembers… I could soar before it snapped back, but I could soar.
I did it again, and again, until I was exhausted. And then I brought a mirror out to see what it looked like when I did, picking up bandages along the way. It looks just as it felt. My core came out, flickering but living and there, and as I climbed the hill to see it again… I pushed myself too far. I woke up when the beetles came out to harass me.
- Advancement came on hardship
- Necessary to beg
- Desperation unlocks power?
- Soul is still flickering
- Know my limits