When Reality Fades...

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We stood there, on the edge of life. Watching as time and people passed around us. 

There, we witnessed the hustle and bustle of a big city on a weekday morning. We saw dogs barking and car horns blaring. A bell dinged as another busy customer entered a shop for their morning coffee. A man ran from the police with a duffle bag over his shoulder and a can of spray paint staining his right hand. The raspy voice of a busker with an acoustic guitar traveled through the bitter, cold air. 

Human beings in heavy jackets and woolen scarves shouldered past each other without noticing what an image they were painting for stragglers like us. That's what they did, fixate on how other people think of them without ever noticing other people. Everyone lived in survival mode, no different from their animalistic ancestors, gallivanting on a mission to success, to happiness, to fulfillment. 

I thought that life was a lot like being stranded in the middle of the ocean, with only a canoe to hold you up. You have a goal in mind, the tropical island with sandy beaches and vibrant fruits to make your mouth water, but you have no way of telling which direction will get you there. You look to the sky for assistance but realize you don't know how to navigate the stars. You look to the movement under the water but you can't tell where the dolphins are and where the sharks are. You can't stay still so you row on and on and on 

and on

and on.

I supposed it's unfair that even the ones who make it drown some day. But maybe even islanders get bored eventually, finding themselves longing for their days traversing the turbulent waves. 

Here, on the edge of life, we could watch the journey's of endless new faces with the same stories, and pretend we weren't just condemned canoers.