The Road



The frank, colloquial, dreary mirror that is directed towards me. I’ve found it painful to see through it. I want to go my own way. I have to worry about high school, scholarships, reputation, money, college. To rhapsodize an industry of life, then demand to see limitations, blows my mind. You want me to believe in comfort, in a life that I don’t want to live. A life that is lived for the necessary means to live and that is all. I want to live life with a passion. I want to wake up every morning happy, joyful, with what I am doing. The pay doesn’t matter as much to me. To inhibit me, is futile. My mind won’t let me live like that. The traitorous soul that roams the air, yelps when I fill the sky with my imagination. I want to be free with capability. Free to grow. This is the land of opportunity, they say. This ascendence to grasp ahold of me. This anti-hero that is a seemingly benevolent traitor, he’s a wolf in sheep’s skin.

I want to ride the clouds. I want to just think. I want to live. Monumental benefit yet so fragile. I must hold fast. Over the tall grass, I see a city. A city of dreams. The city glares hope and justice. It proves to us there is a shot. Keeping my eye on it, I vary my view slightly to meander within my mind. Within creeps a shooting star, clasping the crevices of my brain, and observing the thoughts that are seemingly unreachable. The thoughts hid away because of limiting, realistic, thoughts. They deem too difficult to see now but through the light of the city, they illuminate the very essence of them. They construct a new meaning. They can mature within now. They can seek out an outlet, and parallel my aspirations. Justice is so close. The furnished city, gleams with joy. The populated backdrop shouts my name. I run. Gasping for air, and with the rope of doubt strapped around my wrists, and straps of rusted gold collapsing my ankles. The stripped skin tearing beneath them. The bloodstream of aspiring fluid, slowly circulating my stature. I tug. I pull. I strip away, some of the weight of my shoulders, to enable my capabilities. I can see dreams, coming closer. I can see them calling my name. I can hear their shouts of glee. Perpetuating the accusation, the foreground mocks my expedition. I yearn to escape it. I long for freedom. I live in irony. I live in a land of the free, yet manipulated to believe that very phrase. Yes, there is many great things about this land. I appreciate all the good deeds. I appreciate the men and women who give their lives for the freedom we are presented. In the crevices of the foundation, there is a rotting goldmine of misinterpretation. Their is vulnerable dreams being cast away because of drowning debt, and media representation.

I long to stride through these boundaries. To stride through the seemingly unbreakable walls that society has put before us. I may be able to open up a door for the weak. I may be able to break a boundary, so that someone else can walk through it. I may be able to shine a light for the ones in the dark. One day I’ll make it to this land. One day I’ll live out my dreams. One day I’ll find my purpose, and when that day comes, I’ll light up with rejuvenation. I’ll express gratitude towards the heavens and fall to my knees. I can’t wait until that day. But I can’t wait for the journey. Time strengthens the world. Time that is well spent.


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