A word I used to hear all the time--freak. As in 'you're a freak,' 'freakface,' 'creepy freak,' 'freaks like you...' It doesn't bother me, not anymore. Not since I became a bird.
Not since I learned to fly.
Crouching low, balanced, sliding downhill. Faster and faster, faster. Staying balanced, arms back. Arms like wings. Going faster, going down. Getting ready, waiting while moving; still while flying down the slope.
And then, that tiniest sliver in time, the one that says either you will fly or you will crash. The moment the inrun ends and I spring. Into the air, the sky holds me, cushions under my skies, my wings.
And I fly.
Away from gravity, away from those old hurtful words. I AM a freak. I am a bird. I am a ski jumper.
And I can fly.