There's a fine line, a very fine one that keeps the world in order. And where is that line drawn? In our heads, the space between one ear to another, cluttered with all that goes around and the line separating us from reacting to it.
Imagine laughing your heart out, so heartily that your eyes well up and suddenly that burst of laughter reminds you that you should not be this happy, that something terrible happened with you in your past, that it will happen again and that even if it does not happen in the time ahead, it has already happened in the time before.
That laughter continues and the eyes are sure filled still and you want to stop and can't, this laughter is a let out. It is no longer laughter, it is a cry for help.
What wakes up in the morning as a mess is gripped by gloom of the day that has passed before it can be captured by the possibility of the day ahead. What wakes up in the morning is not free to decide what he wants to be. What wakes up in the morning is stamped with an identity of the past, and so it does not evolve. It stays the same and the routine repeats itself over and over again. What wakes up in the morning never has the ability to define who he will be, he can only only live with who he was. He can not share the youth of the upcoming day, he must stay along with the rotting bodies of the past.
How must he break this cycle?
How can he free himself of this continuum of suffering beating against his back every time he tries to stand up?
Maybe it is time to scratch out that line drawn in the space between two ears.
Train tracks are meant for trains to run but they are also meant to be stepped on and run over. I see a train, I see a track, maybe I'll step ahead.