questions and marks

The Saturday afternoon air carries with it a tangible lethargy as the sun hung low somewhere above the sky. The heavy weight of this stupor bears down on my already weary soul. I sigh as I let them overpower me, my spirit already broken, further pulverized into nothingness. I listen to the sounds of conversation from a few blocks ahead. High-pitched voices crack the peace of my breaking but my mind refuses to acknowledge their words. My thoughts, momentarily distracted by the mental list of school work I needed to get started on, continued to wander as if no distraction shattered its concentration. Movement from inside the house made me wary. There are things I prefer to do without an audience. Contemplating my quasi-existence is one. The door closed signaling my return to pondering.

I expected more. I suppose that is the problem. But I was never complacent. On the contrary, I did everything that was asked of me. I climbed up steep mountains with the herd. My calloused hands grabbing onto ledges and rocks. I swam across oceans, legs and arms flapping against - and sometimes along - with the current. My lungs burned as I refused to give in to my need for air. The salt stinging my eyes. I trooped along valleys and plains with the sun hanging ever so brightly and hot above my head. Sweat dripping down my back, blood coursing through my veins desperately compensating my lack of whatever it is that keeps me from falling. I complained but I never wavered. I kept pushing. One foot over the other. Breathed in and out. There is something waiting for me, I've been told. This excruciating exodus will pay off and its end will signal the beginning of ambitions that will be fulfilled. My head was filled with these visions as I dreamed some more.

And then I got here.

I see dreams and ambitions, fulfillment and celebration, but they're not mine. I see animated chatter about success and progress, but they're not mine. I witnessed happiness and wishes coming true, but they're not mine. These people were part of my herd yet I don't have a patch of grass to graze on. My stomach grumbled as the anvil of hunger fell with a resounding thud crushing my body and breaking my soul.

And now here I am.

All I ask for is a chance. You are breaking me. And I don't know how much more of me there is left to break.