The flying man

He had always considered himself a flying man, though he had never had the pleasure to be one. Sure he had travelled by plane across continents and oceans. He had even piloted a couple of them. However, for Guilmar, flying was much more than just being on the air, supported by some sort of structure. Flying was the ultimate freedom that one could only experience by himself.
Thus, since Guilmar made that inner discovery, he had worked towards accomplishing it. Sure he knew it was impossible, but since when is that a reason for giving up? However, aware of how crazy his aims were, he kept every single detail to himself. His dreams, his hopes, his thoughts. And though that meant he would never have a friendly voice, whispering him that he could do it, encouraging - or simply helping him facing the real world - he knew it was the only way. The road to heaven had to be walked alone.
Every night, when all were asleep, Guilmar would go out, silently, and head on to the shore. He didn’t know why, but he was convinced that the answer to his dream was there, in the freshness of the sea breeze. It was as if he could hear the voices of his own dreams whispering to him, pointing him towards the sea. The seagulls seemed to agree with it, specially when the sun started to rise and their wings started opening to the fresh morning air in grace. It was a vision that had always left him speechless.
However, even after years and years of meditation and searches, Guilmar wasn’t able to find the answer. Flying was still as impossible as it had always been. Only beings such as seagulls would ever be able to fly free on their own...
Thus, on one particular night, when Guilmar reached the shore, he knew that would be the last time. He would never come back there seeking for an answer that did not exist at all. Not there, not anywhere. That’s why he opened his arms, just at the limit of the cliff, feeling the fresh drops of ocean being thrown at him by the strong wind, and said no more. No more would he do that. Reality was upon him, and it was too strong to resist.
And yet, when he was about to turn his back on the world he had always searched for, something happened. All of a sudden, he felt... Free. As if the stronger and stronger wind, blowing from west, was enough to guide him to the clouds and beyond. So he faced the sea, once again, and he knew. The answer had always been there for him to listen. But he was deft, he had always been deft, because he was trying too hard.
On that night, Guilmar knew. He felt it with his entire mind, flowing through his body. Flying. It was possible after all. He just had to let it go. Leave it all behind. Just like the seagulls. And he did. At the sunrise, with the lives that had became his own brothers and sisters, Guilmar opened his wings and jumped alongside with them. He flew, and while reaching the clouds, he knew. He finally knew, and it was worthy. Even if it was the end.