Almost is never enough

Location

When I look across the field I do not see people, I see predators.

Watching, waiting, expecting.

I don’t focus on them, or at least try not to.

People are screaming. Why aren’t you screaming too?

I should be.

But there is too much going on,  I need to get away. For even a second.

Could you let me breathe?

A blackness fills my eyelids as my mind begins to wander my memory.

There is sand in my shoes.

I’m not scared. No one’s watching.

No one cares.

Something tugs the edge of my lip upward.

I’m free.

I close my eyes tighter, my vision is blurred.

Tears fog over my eyes as my feet jump instinctively.

Sweat hovers over me like a familiar friend; hugs me closer than I could allow.

Next on deck!

The harsh voice snaps me back into reality, no longer can I confide in the comforts of memory.

It’s time.

I let go a wobbly breath. Come on, come on…

He thinks I can’t hear him.

He is all I hear.

Everyone is watching me. Those behind be watch me even carefully, mimicking my steps, making a mental watch for my weaknesses.

The familiar friend becomes cool on my arm.

Every muscel is aching, wanting for more.

Pain becomes a friend.

I’m giving all of myself, surrendering myself to what I have worked for.

I’m running.

And suddenly,

I’m not.

Has an unknown deity released me from my pain? I am no longer a slave to gravity, I’m flying.

I’m there. I’ve landed.

I’m in chains; slavery has never felt more bliss.

A smile tugs at the edge of my mouth as I look to where I have landed.

But wait. 

My breath hitches. What’s wrong?

I’m unstable.

I fall.

Back.

Gasps erupt around me like a match set to gasoline.

Did she fall back? Oh no, poor girl!

Poor girl? Poor girl? Brave girl I knew. Strong girl I embraced. Hard working girl I wore like a badge.

Poor girl? I was strangely unfamiliar with these words.

If my face didn’t show my anguish, my tears did.

You didn’t truly think you could do it, did you?

Disappointment.

Defeat. 

Torment, sorrow, distress; my mind joines my tears in a race.

The sand beneath me turns to mud. I don’t care.

But I do.

And so so much. There was nothing on this planet I could remember caring more for.

This is who I am!

This is the moment of my life that I am to become who I ought to be.

Or so I thought.

Or so I dreamed.

Or so I inhaled a fantasy which I was convinced could be real.

One that was almost real.

Almost is never enough.

 

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