Breezin'

Breezin’

“Take back everything you ever said you never meant a word of it, you never did.”

The wind.  Why did everyone hate it?  He, for one, envied the wind.  It had everything he didn’t – freedom in all aspects.  It was free to play gently in the tall grass of a flower-strewn field or to charge haphazardly through the treetops, ripping weak branches from the tree that spawned them.  It was free to soar over mountain tops or speed across the oceans.  It was free to do whatever it pleased whenever it pleased, and it cared not about what others thought of it.
He, on the other hand, was not permitted to show too much emotion – he was a man, strong and emotionless.  He was not free to roam – he had obligations and responsibilities that society told him he should not shirk.  He couldn’t help but care what his peers thought of him.

He hoped they didn’t see him as he saw himself: worthless and unworthy of love.  But, knowing society, that’s exactly what they thought of him.  Oh well.  It’s not like he could change the way the world viewed him.  It’s not like he even wanted to.  Not the world, at least.  But a girl – the girl – oh, how he longed for her attention. 
He willed her to look at him whenever she crossed his path.  He willed her to find his lean body, short and styled hair, and quirky sense of humor attractive.  God knew he found her pudgy contour, her boyishly short hair, and her lopsided and shy smile almost too much.  He hated how she only saw him at work.  She never got to see his style, to see him represented by his choice of clothing.  He wished he could see her in civilian clothes, as well.  In all honesty, he didn’t particularly care what her personal style was.  He just wanted to see more of her skin.

If he was the wind, he would follow her home after work and creep in through the poorly-sealed windows to watch her sleep, making sure to keep the room a comfortable temperature for her.  He would pick at her clothes playfully, trying to catch a glimpse of something he longed to see.  He would play with her hair, running his windy fingers through it gently.  He would do everything if he was the wind.

But, he wasn’t the wind.  And he could do nothing.