I’ve always been drone to the sky. I remember when I was four, every day I would go outside and stare at the morning sky, wishing I could be like a cloud which hovers freely in the sky. I felt like life was chaining me down. When I grew my wings and tried to fly, reality would pull me back down.                 I remember one day, when I was six, I went outside, behind my house. There use to be a tree with a branch shaped like a hand, which could reach above the sky in to an unknown world. I figured that if I could get to the top of that tree, that maybe just maybe I could reach into heaven and grasp a piece of paradise, which would be enough to set me free of the prison life had put me in. When I got to the top, I was so high up, that I felt if I jump down I would finely fly. When I jumped, I didn’t care whether I would land and break my legs or die, because those few minutes I spent flying down, felt like eternity was a step away.