The Feeling

As I left the house, it grew. The feeling, which I now thought of as having free will, grew within me. It is a feeling that you cannot avoid because it is everywhere there is risk, and risk is everywhere. Most can ignore, but not I. I stepped out into the street with it. I walked past the newspaper stand, staring at headlines filthier than the sidewalk I tread through, heavily. Each and every headline said something that meant nothing, or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, it meant nothing to me. The people around, each the same, hardly paid attention to me. One so young cannot do harm. These Sames remained unaware of the feeling inside of me, perhaps to their advantage, because the feeling forces you to do something most people avoid. The feeling makes you think. As the newspaper stand disappears, another fruitless endeavor rapidly approaches. Office buildings loom closer and appear to devour me. Skyscrapers, the huge teeth of the Earth that snatch us out of the sky, mercilessly remind me that life is a one-way street. The feeling quells at those, because they are not free, and the feeling is more free than anything. Pigeons swarm an abandoned lunch and enjoy their roadside meal. I look at them without emotion, but the feeling stirs within me once more. They to are trapped within the earth, they too deserve pity. So I cry. And when they ask me what’s wrong, I stop. I lie a one-word lie, that is, nothing. There is nothing wrong with me, I say, but what I say and what I know lie so far from each other that it is dangerous to try to get from one to the other. I continue walking. The school looms closer. The place to train your mind, to their advantage. I must enter. There are consequences for not entering. The city bus looms closer, dropping off other children like me. One drops her books, the other laughs, a third helps her pick them up, and all three forget the whole incident by fourth period. The feeling must go down during school, so I suppress it. This pains me, because the feeling is pained, and the feeling is becoming me. A bell, acrid to the ears, sounds, and releases the children. The feeling comes back, stronger than ever after a day of rest. Suddenly, the feeling grips me. I have no control over my body, my emotions, myself, and I am truly free. The feeling looks left and sees what it came to see. Three boys playing catch. The feeling walks over. The boy is distracted by my appearance and the ball suddenly finds itself in the street. As the boy walks to get the ball, a bus approaches. All the people freeze, including the boy. Time stands still except for two objects, the Bus and the feeling. The feeling runs swiftly, yet calmly, toward oblivion. The boy looks at me, with admiration and wonder. The feeling pushes him out of harms way and turns to the Bus. The feeling dies and I must return to my body. I stare at the bus. I am hit. I care not. I die. I care not. The boy lives in a debt that cannot be paid, and for that, I feel sorry. Around me, the world is fading. I know it is not dying for I am already dead, because I have no body. I am nothing more than a thought, a feeling. The feeling. Is that it then? Is my feeling someone else who has died and became, through me, a posthumous benefactor? I believe so. The mouth of the world has opened for me now. I come out, and see what living truly means.