Mostly an exercise in writing in first person... Which I haven't done much before, as can be seen. Hopefully, this will help me improve as a writer.
My ears were bleeding.
So was my face. In fact, I thought the thorns may still be lodged in there somewhere.
In the end, it didn't matter. All that mattered was my dream.
I slowly trudged along the path, wind whipping my soft blonde hair from direction to direction, as nature saw fit. My hands clenched into a fist with a sort of tired intensity - not wanting to let go, but undeniably exhausted from that constant energy.
To think, it had been teen whole years since I had started this seemingly endless journey. Even at a young age, I had been extremely discontent. Only when I was seven had I actually realized he thing I was missing. All in a moment, I knew what I had to do.
And here I was, so close to everything.
A booming rumble of thunder coupled with a distant flash of lightning pulled me back to reality. I looked up to the sky. Rolling clouds, dark like weathered concrete, flew by at an amazing pace towards the west.
I wondered... If the clouds were contempt? Did they long for a greater purpose, or did they enjoy frightening children with their outbursts of light and sound? Perhaps they wished to walk on the ground, with two feet like the people they watched every day. When they saw us, maybe they reamed with jealousy until they coalesced, and could not hold it in any longer - shouting at the gods, with their most booming thunder... Anger at their circumstances crackling as lightning, and ultimately realizing their hopelessness, weeping on the very things they wished to become.
Perhaps they showed us every day their sadness, and they were hopeless not so show their suffering. Just like us.