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Illustration by Büke Schwarz
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On Remembering Who I Am
Whenever things get
busy, I cannot keep up with myself. Caught in a brainless frenzy, I
run. I run without knowing. Then I do, hear or see something that
reminds me of me. And I stop. I realize that I am exhausted, that I
am stressed, that I have been acting to make a better fit. And again,
I am questioning my grit.
People have
expectations. They play roles. People must conform to control.
Deviating from the norm, is reserved for the foolishly free, for the
long-sheltered brave. Unfortunately, I have learned to behave. My
words obey. And what's worse: they rhyme. I cannot stop. I have no
choice but to cover my ears and to close my eyes. So, I run.
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