Sometimes I wish I could be a bird. Just lift my wings and fly off to some remote place, where no one can follow me, where I can hide from all my troubles. Sometimes I wish I could be a cat, sleep sixteen hours a day, and be worried by nothing but the soft strain of hunger that would strike when I realize I had overslept past lunch again. Sometimes, I wish I could turn back time and never been born.
And sometimes, I’m glad because I’m me.