Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • when I was six years old, a pale and somewhat sickly child who spent more time reading than not, seeking any method of escapism to distract myself from the world around me, I finally became aware of the fact that the reality I lived in was not shared by others.

    my second story bedroom window overlooked the roof of our porch and sometimes in the small hours of the morning I would open it and climb onto the roof below, bare feet on cool metal, across to the wall which separated our back yard from those of our neighbors. a ladder was leaned against this wall, inches from the edge of the roof, and I clambered down it, trying to be quiet simply to not wake others and to keep this moment to myself, this time of swirling kaleidoscopic lullaby stars and absolute freedom of thought and action. it seemed as if everyone in the world was asleep. I opened the gate to the alley behind my house and walked along the dandelion entangled tiled pathway to the river padded with lilies and the field it embraced on one side, the shadowy timid figures of deer fading into the trees once they sensed my presence, as if they too respected my wish for utter solitude. the grass was a soft thick carpet and I looked at the sky with my arms out on the ground beside me, fingers curling around the peaceful fabric of the night.

    one night I swear I saw a star grow and approach (but in this blissful uncorrupted tranquility I was not afraid) and then the ground below me was falling away but I was suspended in spacetime, frequencies and energies fluttering around me, soothing me while with eyes closed I simply felt, separate but infinite, alone but together, and then I felt tears burn behind my eyelids because I knew I would never be fully here but never fully there. I didn't belong, and never really would, and this realization was bittersweet because at least I had an expression of what I had known seemingly forever but had never been able to fully describe, something I am still unable to. sometime later I woke with shimmery tears cool on my face and walked through the dewy grass back to my bed and lay awake for a long while. most of me knows it was a dream but part of me is forever grateful that this dream was given to me.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.