Happiness.

I often feel weightless, like a mysterious being is lifting me high into the air, holding me underneath my arms, letting my legs skim across the clouds, my hair pulled back by the cold wind. I struggle to breathe as the air shoots into my mouth, freezing my lungs. I try to keep my eyes open but they stream and make the world a blurry water colour, dripping off the canvas. I feel alive, like I can do anything I want to do. I am smiling, my face doesn’t recognise this movement in my cheeks and tries to fight back, but I keep on smiling, wider, mouth opening, a triumphant yell escapes, fists clenched, not in fury but in victory, that I know what happiness is, and that I can make it.

Eyes fluttered gently as the breeze tickled his eyelashes. Mouth was parted slightly, lips dry and a little cracked. His breathing was shallow and controlled; he watched his chest rise and collapse, rise and collapse, rise and collapse. His mind was peaceful, moving with the music, his eyes wandered with the notes of the piano, following them through lush meadows and crystal clear waterfalls. He followed them into the street, looking up as the rain poured down, soaking his body, cleansing him of negative ideas. He stared down the clear path; it was ready to be walked, ready to become part of his past. He was unsure, but the notes gently pushed him forward, circling his frame, becoming part of his soul. He let himself be carried by the music, leaning back slightly into the comfortable force which surrounded him. The music became louder the further he walked, the light became a little brighter, his body a little lighter. The further he walked, the stronger he felt, until the music came to an end, and he was able to walk the rest of the path by himself.