My head is like a small room looking from the outside but it is an ocean sized land filled with mines. I tiptoe around danger spots and I try to stay alive while I run to get out. There is a black and white painted line on the floor and above it lies a banner that says “Finish line”. I have crossed that line many times and it has un-crossed me all the time. I run past the line and the line gets up, a clown blows the smokes drawn from a cigarette, there’s a trumpet sound and out of it comes a cardboard with a note “Tricked ya! It’s just a little bit further up front. Keep running or tap dance with half body parts.” And I’ve been doing that. For years now. I have been running. I have been close and too far away. Every time I reach that line, I pray it is the one. But it’s been years now and I’m tired of running.
I don’t think there was ever meant to be an end but I don’t understand why I don’t stop.