The wind pushes me west, past the suburbs into the as-yet unused countryside. I let it, content with just being in the air again; the ground felt like a prison, sometimes. My loose clothing shows the wind’s direction as clearly as a weathervane, and lets me feel the rushing air against my skin even as it moves me. I rise, higher and higher, until I meet the clouds and pass them.

I’m what they call a Super. Superhuman, that is. I have super powers, I mean. Like something from a comic book, but without the spandex. Happily without the spandex. I control the wind. Well, no, “control” implies mastery, which is not how I think of my power. It’s not as if I’m dominating anything; it’s more like moving my arms. I become the wind, free and unrestrained.

I really shouldn’t be telling you all this; it’s supposed to be a secret. Not because I have a secret identity or anything, though. I’m not a super hero (yet!), so I don’t have one. The government likes to catch us—Supers, I mean—and do experiments and such on us. That’s what my parents say, anyway; they’re retired super heroes, so I assume they know.

But I hate secrets. It’s like keeping a part of yourself caged. You can’t be fully you if you’re keeping a secret. My parents are big on what they call one’s Identity, (does Bruce Wayne dress up as Batman at night, or does Batman dress up as Bruce Wayne during the day?) and I suppose that’s where my aversion to secrets comes from. I hate keeping them, and I often don’t. My friends know not to tell me anything important.

It makes it hard to keep my powers a secret. I hate keeping a part of me quiet, put in a box and thrown in the far corner of the attic. When I discovered I was gay, I remained in the proverbial closet for maybe a month before telling everyone I knew and about a dozen people I didn’t. It was liberating. I only lasted a month “closeted,” and I’ve had to keep my powers under wraps for three years. I don’t even get to use them to fly to school or anything, since I might be recognized. It has been a long, long three years.

So the days like this, the days I can forget all the restraints and rules and about hiding my face and my powers and can become the wind, if only for a little while, these are the days I value most.

Because I am the wind.

And I will be free.