10-13-21, 03:03 AM
hands firmly grasping onto some rope. a grip so tight it burns against the skin, painting the hand's complexion with the slightest amount of red and tingling it with the lightest sensations of pain. never letting the goal break free from its grasp, pulling and grunting and putting in strength an earthquake would envy. you can't simply just do your best.
because once you think you've done enough, someone pulls with vigor stronger than yours, snatching it with a single flick of their hands - you're too easy. everything always seems like they're too easy. a waltz into life accompanied by the most elegant of strings, delicate steps memorized and tapped by feet one too many times onto the floor, until you're pushed into the lake, and into the sea, and into the ocean, and into the very unknown... no one knows how to swim. and no one really cares enough to learn how to. everyone just floats. and tries. and maybe some have enough money to get on a lifeboat.
voices cloud in, yells and screams and stern warnings and hushed whispers. standing at the starting line, letting the energy set alight the brightest of sparks in the body's veins. deep within the smallest crevices and surrounding the entire area. running and losing oxygen, gasping for air and subtle praises to continue to burn. all pumped up and ready to go, deciding and taking every step with reckless abandon. the surroundings blur past until they become unrecognizable... splotches of color, vibrant faces turning into strangers and easily forgotten from memory. the goal is what matters.
the rush is dizzyingly satisfying. it burns until it doesn't, until it does, until it doesn't, until it does, until it doesn't, until it does... run, and if you must, take a quarter of a millisecond to look back. it's the worst thing of all; to see what you could have been, to see others becoming what you should have been, to see people becoming who they should be... eyes focused on the finish line, intensely gazing at the target and having your mind set on the goal... and you end up turning the other way. with the rest of them. what's the point of achievements if someone will always do things better?
you'll never leave a footprint with an impact as great as the one on the moon. your shoe will dig into the mud lightly, harsh enough to indent the floor, yet not long enough for everyone else to keep it. everyone else is in the same race as you are, everyone else is dancing the same dance as you are, everyone else is playing the same game as you are... and all traces of your memories collapse onto land, each person taking footsteps for the first time swirling all its essences through an inept, preliminary tango. they move without grace, and dance to the song with no knowledge, ensuring the memories you've embedded onto the earth return to where you started.
everyone plays the same game. until the surface we exist on continuously shrinks and explodes. or maybe until angels yell and cry, calling attention to millions of beings and carrying them upon their wings. who knows?