The Finish Line!
Will crying help? It’s currently 11:40 and all I want to do is cry in silence and not think or do anything. I don’t know, what’s going on in my mind, idk, I don’t want to think about it and this just makes me too sad. I am running out of time, the road in front of me is long, although I can see the end yer I know my time is about to come.
The reason is that I am this way. I’m the person you’ll never see on the finish line, no matter how much I wanted to think about my ending, how the sky and the sun met on the horizon when you reach that line, I can’t. When I look down all I see are my swollen feet that are slowly giving up on me. They scream “We are tired, we give up.” The clock is ticking, but there’s no one around other than me.
Then who is ticking the clock? What does it mean when the time’s up? I look for the source of the sound just to find out it’s in my hand, and that I am the one pushing it. I don’t know who gave it to me or when did I start pushing the button. I don’t know why I am not stopping it when it’s in my hands.
I only know one thing for certain; the girl who always wanted to go all the way till the end has given up and it’s not even halfway. Suddenly, I feel something around, like there is not me but more people around. I look up to see them walking towards the finishing line.
The young girl, with a bruised hand and a bleeding back, has a faint smile yet she is walking.
The woman’s feet have wounds so bad that it looks like her flesh is melting, yet she keeps moving forward.
And here I am!!!
They give me some courage so I can move on. I have barely taken a couple of steps when I hear someone say “Why aren’t you running?” I don’t turn around but show them my hands. “Because I am badly injured.”
“That girl has a knife in her back, the woman’s flesh is melting and she cannot even see properly, yet she is not whining like you.” I am infuriated because who are they to judge me? When I turn around, I see a woman clad in the finest of clothes. A long flowy gown draped on her body, a jasmine tiara on her head, a long veil on her face, and silk gowns on her hand speak ROYALTY.
How come you judge me when you have the finest of clothing and you are nothing like us? She looks younger than the old lady but older than me. She smiles at me and starts to take her things off. And that’s when I start to see, how similar she is to me and the young girl. I can see how my scars are bleeding but hers are somewhat faded. I see the long scar on her back, the scar of the knife just like the younger girl. They are there like a bad memory.
The patterns on her body are eerily similar yet they are old, like fading memories. I see people gathered around me and when I look it’s not just two others, there are many. Her feet have small bruises but they aren’t as bad as the ones I saw on the old lady’s. I look at mine and relief washes over me as I think I don’t have them. But she communicates to me with her eyes that say “yet” I am about to say something but a gush of wind brings my hair on my face and when I remove it, I see no one around but me, a voice whispers in my ear “you have a long journey, but you will make it.” I look at my bleeding palm to see that I have broken the watch. But I smile.
At least I have bought myself some time!
