A unicorn once flew over my home. I was 12 back then. And it was, well, the perfect unicorn that I had never seen before. I was just so proud of the unicorn that I felt that I’d rather put my dreams to sleep than die. I wanted to make it a reality, I wanted to give myself a chance, but I never found a chance. I searched for my chance in my school and the woods near me, and I had no idea that I will find my chance waiting for me, there. I had no way to put anything in my mind right then, but the reality I’d dreamed of in my dreams was so different. I wanted my dreams to end at the end of the day. But that never happened. The sky was so clear that I could barely look at my eyes. I thought I would rather sleep than have to listen to this story. So I decided to stay home—that I’d rather see the sun rise over me than be surrounded by a sky stuck in the woods. Instead, I went out and waited for the sky to rise up from the sky. The unicorn stood in front of my desk, his feet on the ground—and looked up at me—as a small child. He was an adorable little angel but he was not really my father. Instead, he just stared, trying to think of a way out, and I knew I had found my chance.