For as long as I can remember, with every new pair of arms to hold me tight, with every new warm body next to mine, with every regard filled with desire, every thrusting partner in innocent crimes, I have experienced elevation. Being wanted by another human being lifts me up. I am freed from the confines of gravity, soaring triumphantly towards the stars, nearly grasping a constellation as I glide on by, a vision of serenity and peace.

Just the idea of being loved offers me a free ride on a beautiful magic carpet. Being lifted up so high makes my stomach rise into my throat as my fingers caress the velvety fabric and the wind whirls through my hair. For short-lived moments, I feel beautiful. I throw my head back triumphantly, casting a defiant stare behind me at Hurt and Self-Hatred, lifelong acquaintances that I have tried so hard to get rid of. I think I even left my country and my family in a hopeless effort to ditch them, but they always end up finding me again. I suppose that they have very powerful search methods, crafty GPS material that allows them to locate you no matter where you go.

Just when I start to get used to the altitude, when my body relaxes and  starts to enjoy the cool air and the beautiful view…someone inevitably pulls the rug right out from under me. I plummet to the unyielding ground with a bone-shattering thud. I have fallen so often that anyone in his right mind would say, “Avoid that carpet!” but before I have even brushed myself off, I am looking for another ride.

Maybe that is what life is about. Trying to hold on to your beautiful flying carpet. Take me higher.