Who I Am

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For the majority of my life I feel like I’ve been walking a tight rope. In an auditorium where the bleachers are filled with thousands of me, yelling my condolences. Or screeching their hope for my demise. Two sides hoping for me to fall either which way. One side for hope, and happiness. Idealism they say. And the other for my misery to seep fully to my body, and kill the living inside of me. The realistic side that knows I want to die. And while walking this tight rope each side pitches feathers or rocks at me, eager for me to fall their way. Because each only wants the best for me. Up in the air, with this thin twine underneath my feet, I am shocked to realize I am too weak to fall either way. I barely skid across the axis of life, not living and not dying. But just existing. Every emotion I have ever came across is an extreme, an injection of that emotion into my system. And by seeing the rest of me, in dots on the ground, I know that were I go they will go. But when the epiphany catches up to me, shallow-breathed and confused, I choose not to fall either way. But in the end I decided to hang. Where I will forever be at my equilibrium of contentment and despair, and all of the thousands of me are relieved to see the swaying trophy in the middle of the auditorium.

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