I had heard about it;
stories about its fierce footsteps and unwanted battles. I never truly accepted
it would reach me, I expected to stay hidden in the playground forever, not
caring about its whereabouts or victims. They said it doesn't understand mercy
or patience; it's always carrying on its task. I never believed it.
Until, one day, it came
for me.
It stormed in without
warning, breaking the door down and turning the furniture upside down. It
turned off the lights and kept me in the darkness. I haven't seen myself since
that day. It took my blind freedom away, not letting me stay tied down anymore.
It made me want to run, sprint to the woods, where someone else had the lead.
It made me face my fears, but it didn't teach me how to face its constant
presence. It dug its way into my mind, always having a say in my words,
twisting them until I couldn't speak anymore. It made me choose. It made itself
permanent in my days, and its tattoo bound in my skin. The tattoo says its
name, a word made of six letters and anxious colors. "Future" is
written on my arm.
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