The Race

Racing, always racing, looking to reach the end before the track runs out, before time suddenly stops and what seems endless in youth becomes sparing in age; snatches of it pass in front of my very eyes, within touching distance but transparent, vapour that cannot be trapped in bottles or on windows, that cannot be frozen or solidified in any way possible, like hope, belief, chance, love, hate, fear, sorrow, and all emotions big or small, major or minor, real or imaginary, like those mental diseases that many ignorant people believe are a self-serving myth, a massive attack of self-deprecation spawned from some ‘sick’ need to be appreciated, to be desired - imagine, wishing to be wanted, bemoan the human condition and its vulnerabilities, and pray never to succumb to the weakness of neediness for this, in the eyes of the ‘mentally tough’, is a cardinal sin, one punishable by being exiled, sent to live in isolation; spiralling off track in exuberant amounts of distraction and over-elaboration when the simple matter is an overwhelming need to escape this goldfish bowl of a nation with its corrupt bureaucrats and personal histories, to start anew abroad, somewhere big yet also small, a place to see and be seen, to live and be lived through, where experiences come and go daily in the people you meet and the surroundings you inhale; shaking legs show the pent up energy and frustration this suffocation is causing, fit to burst, racing toward the end without knowing when or where the starting block was, not knowing when or why the decision was made that this place, this house, this life, was too restrictive to breath properly in, or where it was the shackles were locked around the ankles, forcing the running of the race to take place in just one place, running a hole right into the same spot for the last three years as everybody else is released off the chains and out into the real world, with real ground to run into, with real lights, real sounds, real conversations, real feelings, real things they do not show us on the television anymore, out to where we can see that lies are what they are for ourselves; I just need to run my race, no matter where it takes me or how quickly it ends.