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Rated: E · Essay · Emotional · #2140221
Came first in a state writing competition with this.
“I am a runner” this statement is a simple one, but if you perceive it as a basic activity, then you would be wrong. Yes I do enjoy running, to have the ground under my sole is a feeling of bless. To have my mind mingle with the clouds, not understanding what they say, but enjoying their company all the same. Even so, I also act as a runner. If I am presented with a violent confrontation, overly awkward situation, or even a frustrating problem I will act as a runner, because I am a runner not a fighter. I run down on earth keeping to myself, instead of flying with the stars so I could shine equally as bright. My gaze is constantly following the gravel as I pass by, and my feet pound upon the ground, instead of looking up in an attempt to perceive something I don’t understand.

I was only able to obtain this philosophy by taking the easier path through the trail we all travel. Some sing as they glide down this trail, while I contently hum an optimistic tune as a jog. I thank this to my father who allowed me to take my freedom if I felt inclined. We live together in a nice home, with the addition of my sister and her boyfriend. Sadly/Happily my mother is not included in the equation. Her mind would also mingle with the clouds as mine did, but she took their words as truth no matter how impossible. My sister is always kind even when agitated, so I try to follow her example, in hope other will follow this standard. Unlike me, my father is always looking up to understand things that are bigger than us. He looks at his fellow man, no matter how different their bodies are, as equals, and only their actions are damnable. As I see his understanding, I attempt to fabricate what is not mine, so I may wear it like a mantle in pride that I claim to comprehend. He taught me patience.

I am humbled through humiliations that have not transpired, by grazing upon a living example, which lives as a pillar of strength. I have lived with this entity that has claimed to be a man and to be just as frail. To some his childhood has been shattered beyond recognition, some who are ignorant try to take pity, put instead of mend, they bend and shake an everlasting structure that was forged without a father, with a naïve mother, and a storm of unjust circumstances. From an early age I emblazoned him, called him brother, saw him as a role model. And as my role model, if there was a blank or undesirable trait I world imprint off of him. He taught me to endure

As I reminisce of past, I can grasp the differences between my upbringing and the one of others. As, a child I was the target to many pity digressions, which made me impassive a silent. This bullying made me realized something magnificent, “I am a runner”. After a while I learned that people are only as you perceive, so as the younger version took that meaning as law, I set out to be what other made of me. However this made me into a class clown, who had no expiations of tomorrow, with his mind constantly in the clouds. This clown was born for this awkward role, from birth he was called a joker, an embarrassment, whose mother was never right, always talking to imperceptible clouds that only shows itself to tainted blood. This clown was named Joshua, named after a rigorous man in a biblical text, with the same meaning of what he was called “Joker”. In recognition of his own stupidity he found himself, then he turned to me, and I learned you must strive for what you aspire to do. But, old habits die hard.

So, now I the only thing I work at with a relentless passion is the action, of beating the earth under my sole. To be passive and understanding, as I performance out day to day activities. To appear strong and humanness as I wore the old clowns makeup as it slowly gain the tone of my skin. To seem distant as clouds come once again to invade my mind, as I fantasied about unsystematic images, which help that the edge away from the dangerous trail that we take.
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