Just There

He was running. Not from something.Toward something.

In his dream, he could feel it - that thing ahead of him.

 The closer he ran, the lighter he felt.

 Like something lost was about to return.

He stretched his hand.

Almost.

Almost - 

He woke up.

And like every other morning, the dream slipped away.

Not because he chose to forget.

 It just dissolved.

 Like it was never meant to survive daylight.

He went to class.

Sat in the same chair.

 Listened to the same lectures.

 Followed the same path he once believed was "his."

Somewhere between childhood and now, he had agreed to a script.

 Study. Compete. Achieve. Repeat.

He thought he chose it.

Now he wasn't sure.

The more he questioned it, the worse things felt.

Questions grew like roots in the dark.

Why am I doing this?

 For what?

 For who?

He asked a friend once.

They laughed.

"You've come too far to turn back."

Too far.

Funny how when you're a kid, you're told you're too young to question.

 And when you grow up, you're told it's too late.

The questions didn't stop.

Sleep did.

At night, he held his pillow tight, pressing his face into it so no one would hear him cry.

Tears wanted to say many things.

He only wanted rest.

Just one night without thinking.

Just one night without needing answers.

Stress piled up quietly until his body gave up before his mind did.

He collapsed.

For the first time in weeks, he rested.

And then - 

He woke up.

But not in his room.

He stood in a vast, open land.

As far as he could see - trees swayed.

 Flowers moved gently.

 Birds crossed the sky without hurry.

There were no voices telling him what to be.

 No deadlines.

 No expectations.

For the first time - 

He existed.

Not alive.

Not dead.

Not successful.

 Not a failure.

Just breathing.

Just there.

He just was there.