The Helicopter

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Dear Diary,

The other helicopter is a mud-crusted pig. I can’t believe I ever liked him. Yesterday, during the battle of boredom, he took my landing spot on purpose. I know he knew I wanted it. It was so smooth and flat and accessible. Who wouldn’t want a sturdy bookshelf?

My controller is on the verge of a breakdown. I’ve been feeling it for weeks now, but I don’t want to do anything. What good would it do if I did? The other helicopter doesn’t have these problems. He’s totally oblivious. Instead, the other helicopter glides around without any shaking or flight exhaustion. He is in complete alignment with our surroundings.

The other helicopter is entitled. He thinks he deserves a safe landing. Does he ever wonder what his safe landing is taking from me? Does he even notice my missing wheel?

Today he sat next to me on the cabinet above the office chairs.

“Just take control,” he said as if it was that easy. He was looking at the long and low windowsill, but I was looking out.  

The other helicopter can fly as smooth as cream. He’ll never leave the room.

 

-The CH-53 Sea Stallion

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