#4

When I was in the second grade the world was my oyster. I didn't know what responsibilities were and didn't understand why people paid taxes. I took everything as it came, never making any judgements or conclusions. Just like any other kid I didn't think the stuff I did meant anything. Didn't think that someday I'd be looking back at it and finding some earth shattering revelation hidden amongst the daily doings of a five year old. That a game of hopscotch could mean more than just a good time and the occasional sprained ankle. 
When I was in the second grade I was confident. Hell, I was borderline cocky. I'd walk up to the stage right before the morning announcements began and feel on top of the world. Why? Because I was. You see my world was confined to the boundaries set by the people who built the school which my parents chose for me. And I still felt as free as the black man did when Martin Luther stepped on stage and said 'I have a dream' because I didn't know what freedom was and yet I was still sure that I had it. I had a reckless imagination that had no limits no intentions of shutting up. If our heads were proportional in size to the amount of nonsense we had going on inside them they would've had to name a continent after me. I was that kid.
When I was in the second grade I was the kid that never shut up about all the things that she wanted to do someday and all the diseases she wanted to cure regardless of whether people were listening. I wanted to rid people of pain and suffering like I was the painkiller that God had administered to the entire human population. I wanted to be ingested into bodies and seep into organs plucking at the heartstrings which make people fall in love and feel wonderful about themselves. I wanted to be something good in a world that I had never seen anything bad in. I guess you could say I was a good kid but I was also naive. I lived in a very small world which began from the steps of my house and ended right at the corner of my school where I could see birds in the cages that the school had set up for us and talk to them about how good it feels to be free. I was clueless.
When I was in the second grade I took part in a lot of races. I was the tallest in my class and took pride in standing at the back of the line with all the boys because I knew that it meant that my legs were a little longer and my chances of winning those races a little less slimmer. In one of those races we were given a spoon with a marble on it and we had to put it in our mouths and take it across the track without dropping the marble. I think it's safe to say that I was the reigning champion because during every single practice run I took that spoon in my mouth and dashed across like the soles of my feet were on fire. When it came to the actual race I walked on to the starting marker and I remember my friends holding red pom poms on the sidelines and cheering for our house not because they wanted to but because the teachers needed to give them something to do. Back then I saw them as my own little league of cheerleaders who were ready to break out into a synchronised dance performance in honour of my glory. At the whistle I ran and I kept going because this cocky little kid knew she had this in the bag but right at the end I began to slow down and the little boy with the longer legs managed to catch up to me. He kept pushing and I kept holding back getting slower which each step that he took because well, I didn't want to push any harder. Or at least I thought. I came in second place and that was still a victory because I told myself that I let the boy have it. That if I wanted to I could've hit nitros oxide on my white trainers and beamed into a different dimension. That could've won if I wanted to. And it was my little secret.
When I was in the second grade I didn't think I'd be doing anything significant because I thought only adults did things that mattered and I'd need to grow up before I could do anything cool enough to warrant an analysis. Well, I was wrong because I'm about to tell you about the most important lesson that I've learned in a long, long while.
When I was in the second grade I was scared. I was scared that I wouldn't be good enough and I was scared to find out my full potential because maybe it just wasn't enough and maybe some other kid had longer legs or bigger dreams. I had a fear of failure that managed to drive me into a state of unconscious paralysis where I began to misconstruct the graph of my progress. I drew a line in the sand and that line was ten feet away from where it needed to be because it was the fear I needed to get over. I wish I could go back and rub that line off with my foot and drag myself into the water because if you don't know how to swim you shouldn't be standing on the shore and drawing lines in the sand telling yourself how far you can go. You need to be in the water as deep as you can go so you can almost drown and realize that if you don't want that to happen there is only one thing you can do about it. Just learn to frikkin' swim. To this day I don't know how to swim because I never felt the need to learn. Because I still draw lines in the sand which dictate how far I can go and how hard I can try. But these lines don't mean anything because they're just me putting my insecurities into a little jar and labeling it 'My Potential' even though it isn't. I keep that jar safe inside my closet where nobody can see it so they'll never know what I can accomplish. It's the little secret that I'd been keeping from the entire world because the only thing worse than breaking a jar is breaking it in front of a bunch of people.
When I was in the second grade I could've pushed a little harder but I didn't. I regret it because what's the point of running if you don't run until you feel like your lungs are on fire and your legs are about to give way?

What's the point of running at all?

- Mahrukh M.