If your eyes locked onto the dove, something in you may be begging to breathe. You might be smiling on the outside while silently shrinking under expectations, constant availability, or the pressure to always “hold it together.” The dove mirrors a hunger to move without asking permission, to make choices that aren’t pre-approved by anyone else. Begin by telling the truth—at least to yourself. Name what feels heavy, what feels false, what you’re doing only to avoid disappointing others. Then carve out small, sacred rebellions: a boundary you finally enforce, an hour you keep just for you, a dream you allow back onto paper. Tiny acts of self-trust slowly reopen the cage door.

If the running girls hit you first, your heart may be aching for arms, not wings. Maybe you’ve mastered independence but quietly miss being chosen, included, expected. Their movement echoes a longing to be part of something—inside jokes, shared memories, the comfort of not always walking home alone. You don’t have to wait for a perfect best friend to fall from the sky; connection often starts with one vulnerable, slightly awkward step. Message the person you keep “meaning” to catch up with. Say yes to the coffee, the game night, the video call you’re tempted to cancel. Let people see you before you feel “ready.” Emotional loneliness doesn’t always roar; sometimes it just sighs at night when the phone stays dark. Whether you saw wings or intertwined footsteps, your first instinct is a map. It’s not demanding you change your whole life today—only that you stop pretending you don’t need what you clearly, deeply do.