Chapter 3:


As I was running yesterday I was thinking of fluidity. Perhaps these thoughts were administered by the pouring rain that poured and pounded every open surface it could. The thoughts continued only interrupted by brief pains in my legs from running so long. The thoughts other wise, ran with me all over town. I thought about it more and more with every turn. There seems to be a fluidity of life. A cycle that continues to roll on for eternity. The light rises, then dims, then diminishes. The concrete life. Yet there is the very few that seem to break this cycle, they are the ones who are unique. They make time slow down. They constitute the definition of special. The concrete begins to crack and you can see something you’ve never begun to think existed. A greater being begins to emerge from the tiresome outer skin. The new emerges, the light seems different, the people seem different, life seems special now.

As I ran the rain began to pour harder, and the wind encouraged it. The rain felt like tiny bullets that stung my skin. I thought of this, a little deeper. Sometimes life, the fluidity of it can seem to move faster. The life that is young and fresh, but when it’s old it seems to bring with it pain. I’ve always heard that the only constant in life is change, yet when I see the constant fluidity, the constant busyness of it, the concrete begins to emerge. The hustle and bustle begins to drown society. The chronicles of life can sometimes seem boring. Sometimes one can get in this motion of life, that creates an impact that seems to be holding down an individual. The drowning can bring about depression, anger, weariness. The precursors to doubt. Or are they? The downright confession that I’ve given up, shows defeat, but really it could show the courage of someone. That’s what we need to understand is that, when life seems broken, we can actually pick up the pieces. To express that you’ve broken, you’ve lost is a characteristic of human nature. We are meant to feel this way to be able to connect with others.

To be continued… Brief interruptions from this thing called school.



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