She'd climb through her bedroom window, her notebooks, folders, and binders in hand. She'd make sure they didn't fall from her grasp, and that her parents wouldn't disturb her. The sun would have dipped low on the horizon, leaving only a trail of color in it's wake, and enough light to see by. She'd brace herself, taking nimble steps along the rooftop, until she'd reach the very edge. There she would sit, laying down all of her books, all but one. She'd open it cautiously, flip to a random page, and smile down at her work. She'd read every word, view every doodle on that sheet, until it was sucked into her memory like a photograph. When the wind told her it was time, she'd carefully rip each leaf from it's place and let it go in the warm summer air. Every one, every piece of her life from that year, would be floating to unknown destinations on the afternoon sky. It was all the thoughts she had dreamt and embraced. She'd do the same with the others, emptying pockets of notes and songs onto the slowly deepening night, until the bindings and rings were all that was left. She'd stand, and for a moment, she'd watch as her mind and her heart soared away from her, to people elsewhere. She'd bring the empty shells of notebooks back inside, and dispose of them.
Three months later, and she'd be carrying fresh pieces of blank paper into her classes, new notebooks and folders that would keep her satisfied. She'd write down lyrics, poems, class work, and whatever she could think of. She'd remember that evening when everything flew from her grasp. She'd smile, knowing these thoughts would have the same fate as the others.