If I were to tell people of my sanctuary they’d call me weird. Broken. Like me callused hands finding their place in the stone. Each of my limbs finding their home on the rocks. My treck up the cliff seemed endless the first day, but knowing what lays ahead gives me the comfort to ease my sore arms. I blink a tear from my eye as my foot jams into a sharp rock, and turn my head to look back. The city stands tall and proud below, but looks tiny compared to how my heart feels when I finally pull myself to the top. Every regret I had going up is below as I run up the small hill left to conquer. The wind throws my hair back as I twirl on my heel and stare below. Nothing feels better than the sun on my face as I stand at my sanctuary. Everything, everyone that held me back in the city is just that. The city, nothing but a mear speck in the back of mind as I stand high above it.