In autumn, sitting indoors, watching the yellow leaves flying all over the sky, either unrestrained or fluttering. Watching it gently fall to the ground, I recall flying in the air. The broad and clear sky was full of joy because of its dancing. I think the short life of that flying leaf is enough, at least it is happy all its life until it is corroded by wind, frost, rain and snow.

When I am trapped in a narrow space and surrounded by lonely air, I have an urgent yearning to become a light fallen leaf, even if my life is only for a few seconds, it doesn't matter, because that's what I'm after!

However, freedom seems not enough for me. Whenever it is only a few meters away from me, it turns around. Fly away.

I remember once, it was a weekend full of schoolwork. My homework makes me dizzy. I want to go out and find a quiet place. No sooner had I reached the door than I was stopped by my father in the study. He asked coldly, "Where are you going?" "distracted." "Have you finished your homework?" "There is still a little left." My voice is getting lower and lower. But I have predicted the final result-"no!"

I have to go back to my room, thinking about the dance of fallen leaves and enjoying its freedom. Maybe it has no right to choose when to fall and when to start its dancing career, but it can dominate its own life-whether to dance gorgeously or float quietly.

Sometimes this is the case, the behavior is bound, or the mind is bound, and sometimes the heart is suffocating.

I remember writing such a sentence in primary school: "The sky is like a big black cloth, and the stars are holes bitten by insects." The teacher commented: "This metaphor is irrelevant." But I don't believe it. This is a very good sentence. But since the teacher said so, I never dare to write this sentence into my composition book again, although I am still depressed.

In art class, I once put wings on pigs and felt that my imagination was unparalleled. But the teacher also educated: "This is not practical. Don't draw like this in the future. " Have a taste in my heart. I have a feeling that I want to fly but I can't fly. Very sad. Can this be the pain and sadness of losing freedom? Since then, my so-called daydream has become an unpretentious fantasy.

I don't know when my heart has lost its wings to fly. I just curled up in a corner of the cage, remembering my free flight, but now I can only wander.

Want to break free, want to be free, want to have a free space like fallen leaves, shake my skirt and fly at will … I want to!