Headrush

Week 55 - 200 Word Tuesday

My nose bleeds.

My hands are numb.

My brain tickles me with the temptation of sleep.

My body is trying to tell me I don’t belong here. But I’m here now. I’m rattling, burning up in all the decisions that I’ve made, hyper-focussed on the roar of my moment.

My heart disobeys the warnings. It’s the only one I’ve got on my side. It’s the only one that I need.

I hold tight to the jet’s reins, beckon its cooperation. It moves like an extension of my body. It’s exhaust is the replacement of my lungs, it’s controls my new limbs, my squadron.

We ignore with the turbulent understanding of all reason, press harder, move quicker.

To those below, we are a blur, but a frightening one. A blur they will never understand, not matter how dearly they hope to.

This is the moment of those who are bold enough to walk through the sky. Those who don’t look back because they know it’s already lightyears behind them.

This is the moment of those who dare.

My body could die in this seat, and I’d still be here, tinkering with the controls, guiding my missile life to its glory.

I’m too high up to fall back down now.

This is it.

Weld me to the panels.

This is it.

This is who I’m brave enough to be.

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