It's tiring, trying to keep up with everyone else. Feeling that everyone's moving ahead of you, exuberant, motivated; while you glide on social inertia. The track you're on is well lit, crowded, competitive. The glances from people nearby betray their expectations. They all think you're one of them, intrinsically propelled. But you're not, you're weary.
So... Stop running. Walk. Wait. Think.
What inspires you? Saturates you with wonder, keeps you engaged? What would really keep you going if all the luxury of the world were to fall into ruin? Why aren't you there? The crowd continues to move, some people walk besides you to ask you if you need aid. They're polite, but they can't really help, they need to keep on running.
There's a flash in the dusk off to the side of the track; brief, intense, mysterious. Your gaze turns, it calls.
Look again at those rushing past you now that you've slowed. Do they all really know where they're going? Or have they just walked in the safety of the lamps all their lives? A last few faltering steps in that exhausted direction. Curious stares and suspicious gazes from the rest of them. Stand still and wait for an opening, an exit, to get off the track to a bleak future. Then turn and sprint away, into the darkness, away from the path. You don't know where you're going, but at least you've found yourself.
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