Racing

by Julia Mercado

I'll get there one day. Maybe, who knows, I might kind of get there. If I squint I'll see some sort of
finish line.
Am I doing all I'm supposed to do to get there? How did other people get there? Were they
smarter than me? Better than me?
How long will I be doing this for? All I want to do is give up, throw myself on the ground, and
wait until someone takes my hands and drags me where I need to go.
But I can't. Somehow my body keeps moving forward.
I know I'll get there if I keep going a little longer. I'm already pushing as hard as I can. It's my
own path, no one else's, so I think I'll go at my own pace and I'll be there before I know it.