I sat paralyzed in a growing puddle of my sweat. My legs were leaden with fatigue, arms sore and rebellious. But in my head there was a flurry of activity.
Why do I put put myself through this?
What am I hoping to achieve?
Why do I run? What am I chasing?
Why do I let inanimate, lifeless objects have such power over me?
Pressed up against the wall, I felt my back slowly go numb as these questions raced across my mind.
Do I really enjoy this? Or has my “affliction” convinced me so?
Missed chances and wasted opportunities started barging their way to the forefront of my mind.
Is this all worth it?
This is not living, it’s merely existing.
I chuckled at how cliched that sounded.
A housefly landed on my hand and embarked on an expedition of my right arm. As I observed it shuffle about, I realized I was envious of it. So carefree and seemingly unencumbered by thought, just thankful there’s food. Satisfied with its inspection, the housefly took off abruptly, snapping me out of my trance.
It was at that moment I decided. I need to rebuild, I want to rebuild. To be more housefly and less human.
To start living.
i write pretty one day.