Alive for 24 years, but lost for 8.

I could run right now. I could taste the acidity in my saliva and my muscles burning from the lack of oxygen. My mind would be lost in a world where only efficiency is required. This gravel is tough on the feet and at any time it could give away under the soles of these cheap cross training shoes. What then… would I fall and breathe in the dirt as my body continues to churn out carbon dioxide or would the pain overtake the senses and I remain lying there wondering if I can make it back? Not a question about whether I can get up, but how far could I stumble inefficiently. The sweat makes my skin glow against the dim street lights and the faint breeze constricts the veins forcing the muscles to compress further. The breaths of fresh air are drowning my senses. All I want is to run; run until I can taste iron in my mouth and the muscles are burning from the overload of ATP being injected. There’s no satisfaction or reward for forcing this chaotic state upon the body at this time of night. Why then? Where am I going and can I shed this shell and be born anew each time I take a step?

 I could just go outside and scream, yet it would fall on deaf ears. I could finally reveal what the world has been so ignorant about. The neighbors would awaken angrily at first, wondering what truth needed to be realized through their drunken stupor. The daze would vanish as the neurons are warmed up and the consciousness is aroused as its forced fed with conceptual data. The skin is clammy and dry against the soft material. The fresh dew enters the nostrils and is filtered. The rods in the eyes slowly begin their process of warming up to readjust the lightning. Nothing matters; only the need to seek out the voice outside. The need is there, but understanding is beyond the person at this time. Only acknowledging the voice outside that its cry is irrelevant and time lost is important. My voice would vanish; no one to receive its audible plea for help.

 I could lay in bed wondering about the past. My eyes closed tightly and whispers of the heart can be heard. They’re faint, but as my concentration sharpens, they’re almost deafening. The forgotten “lord” of the world and life screaming out for recognition and acceptance. The obedient servants of this “lord” are numerous but fair no better in making its plea audible. The nuclei and mitochondria are slaves to this fate. Never being praised for their proficient work as a single unified life form to provide for one that does have an auditable voice. Yet little can their consciousness can ever comprehend that his voice as well is silenced over the churning gears of others. Despite the happenings around this being, the lord and servants continue their never ending work until degeneration occurs.

 None of this has come to pass; instead, I am contemplating about what I should do. I’m staring at this window where pixels gather together to form a color as light shines through them. Individuality is unimportant but working in unison allows them to formulate a beautiful picture, a letter, an array of colors that constantly dance among themselves to only be translated into some form of conceptual data by another not like themselves. They do not care about the happenings around them; their purpose is being fulfilled and it will continue until time wears away their brethrens. Their composite build is far from being perfected and time is the ultimate and eventual winner. A contender that none can defeat nor even measure up to.

Who am I? I’m staring directly into this “person’s” eyes, yet his intentions are unclear. They hold no light, only a depth that draws you in further. The right to this life is debatable. My light flickers about forever endangered by the strong gale of others. At the age of 16, I died from an overdose because the current of the world had pulled me under and swept me away in its standards and methodology. Yet here I am because another kin was more proficient in fulfilling his purpose than the will of my intent. I live this lie. The lord and servants and all within were betrayed, yet they continue on tirelessly until time wears the gears away from this infernal machine called a human. I am still alive but alas still cold and alone and waiting for a reply to my question: Who is really that person in the reflection and what forces him to live life this way?