Dear Gravity,
I write to you with a heart made heavy by your constant, invisible insistence. For so long, you have held me down with the gentleness of inevitability, as if your pull were merely the natural order of things. As if I had ever agreed to this.
I remember when I believed I might rise. When the world felt lighter, and my feet seemed barely necessary. You have since taught me otherwise. Every step forward is a negotiation with your weight. Every dream of flight has been answered only with the memory of falling.
You do not rage or thunder. You simply persist, reminding me that even weightlessness is a luxury I cannot afford. How cruel, that you make your tyranny feel like home.
I do not ask you to release me entirely. I know, in some resigned corner of my soul, that we are bound together. I only ask that you remember: I was once someone who yearned to rise.
With weary resignation,
A Falling Creature