12 years old
New Slang – The Shins. [This is a result of me visiting down south. It’s southern sounding acoustic. I normally don’t listen to this lol.]
We sat on the grass of a nearby park trying and pretty much failing to assemble an electric plane that required almost no assembly. Thing is, I hate reading instructions and so does Caleb. This is because people spend so much time reading the directions, that by the time they even try it’s already been so long, and then they can’t even get it right anyways. Once, Caleb and I tried reading instructions to bake a chocolate fudge cake and we still ended up with batter on the ceiling and a charred mound of inedible substance..
Yeah, we don’t do well with instructions. Or we’re just horrible cooks. Probably both.
The only things on the airplane needing assembly were a few wing-like pieces and the propeller, yet we still couldn’t figure out where to stick them.
After at least fifteen minutes of struggling and almost breaking the darn thing, we finally got it together and working properly. The next task was getting it up into the air, which took another fifteen minutes. You’d think that it would be easy, seeing as it practically flies itself but noooo, me and Caleb are the only idiots who can’t fly and electric plane. Or at least I think we’re the only ones. Not like my friends have a collection of electric planes and take them out for joy rides every day.
Back to the point.
We decided to take turns flying the thing. As it was my turn, I finally realized my calling was not to become a pilot because of the fact that I almost decapitated Caleb when trying to do a loop in the air. After a while of flying, we got tired of ducking and so we landed the plane and laid on the grass.
As we laid there, I started to think. “I’d love to be a plane. Travel the world. Visit places. Be important to others.”
“Sure, but would you like to be used?” Caleb asked. “Also, they don’t get to go where they want. They just go where they’re told.”
“That’s because they can’t think,” I responded.
“Well, we’re speaking metaphorically here, aren’t we?”
“Touche. But what else can I wish to be?”
“Too cliche. Plus, they can’t really think. They just have instincts.”
“Still too cliche.”
“Fine,” he said exasperated. “Then I’d want to be human. A free human.”
“Nope. Whatever. Maybe it’s best to just be us.”
“Maybe,” I said while thinking, Sometimes it isn’t.