Learning to fly, learning to run...

Shots were fired and he was caught in the middle. Life has a way of twisting even the happiest of moments into future memories of sadness and regret. Things were supposed to be simpler, clearer, yet as always people cannot shed their skin, and blood was spilled. As he tried to mend their wounds, it was quickly reaffirmed that band-aids can't fix bullet holes, and all he can do is plead his case and hope his efforts aren't in vain. He wonders if they'll ever appreciate his words and all he has sacrificed,  while knowing that none of this is in fact about him. When there is nothing left to do but flee, the walk home seams unbearable. There are friends he could call, who would listen and understand, but such pain can only be cured by something greater and more profound. As he catches himself wishing he wasn't so alone, he is suddenly struck by the realisation that he survived despite his loneliness and that perhaps all he needs, all he'll ever need is stars to guide his way, and that stupid same old grin on his face.