Another Time

A different location. A different feel. A different everything, but much has remained the same. A classic situation where change is all around you, but never within you. He lies on the ground. Motionless. Unwavering but lost.

The days are numbed. His senses dull, the little sensations unnoticeable. They fade away, ever present, but momentarily forgotten. Mindless. Going through the motions. Necessary.

Contrast. He awakens. The days have a new vitality to them. Events are not simply passed by but presented as meaningful. It is harder. But it is endlessly more rewarding. Yet of course, something is still missing.

Thoughts of what could be. Of what is unfulfilled, of what must be fulfilled in order to reconcile with the missing part of life. But it does not work. It will never work.

He is stuck. Left to live a life that isn’t worth living, but is worth living because it is not worth living. And so he strives each day to create a story. A path to which there is a beginning, a middle, and an end. But perhaps the part we are all waiting for, the part we all anticipate for and want to know of; is our greatest downfall. The end.

The end is all he ever wanted. The results to his test, to his relationships, to his life. But he never understood that the beginning and middle shaped his ending. He never understood that by focusing on the end, he forgot the most important step. He forgot that the end is not something to anticipate. The end is something you create. But that, that is for another time.

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