The Race


United States
34° 17' 23.316" N, 79° 53' 48.768" W

Step by step, I move only forward,
Hands jerking at my ankles trying to pull me back.
I look ahead.
So many steps stand in front of me, too many to count, too many to see.
But I see them.
I see them, and I see faint traces of the people I used to know, and I see what a family is supposed to be - yet nothing is what it seems.
So I avoid the holes in the road, taking a few bumps instead. I am shaken but unscathed.
Why do people insist on trying to hold me back?
I am the wind, unseen but powerful. While no one takes notice now, they will remember me later.
They will remember when they need me, they will remember when I have finally reversed the damage they have done - and I will not be there to hear it.
Words have already been spoken, feelings already decided; I have been lost to those around me, but I have found myself.
My blinders are in place,
The race ready to begin,
And I wait.
Ready. Set. Go.
They take off. I remain.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Three - then I take off.
Speeding through the others, determined to win this race against time.
As I outdo the last one in front of me; I find myself on the finish line as
I yank on the reins; I just want out.
Away, away, away.
But I have to wait.
Just a few more flashes.
Just a few more arguments.
Then I'll be done.
Done and gone forever.
A grain of sand lost on a beach, swept away into the very wind of the creation, remembered only by the traces it left behind.


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