12,410

Lying alone he feels life’s hand caress his face. It strokes his cheek as to comfort and apologize for all it has done. He lays there feeling defeated and beaten down and cannot seem to muster the energy needed to lift his tired and weary body. There are no visible wounds or bruises, just a broken shell of a man that once existed. A man who, like so many men before him, had soared on the wings of dreams and had hung steadfast to the ropes of ambition. But like those men before him, he had come to realize that the wings he soared upon had always remained stationary and the thrill of flight had only been gusts of delusion. And the ropes he had clung too so tightly had been made of ash and had withered away many years ago. He rolls on his side toward the window and feels the heat of the sunlight on his face. It didn’t bare the same feeling as it once did long ago. The sun would come into his room and the warmth would echo in a new day. Everyday was once an opportunity for something more and every night the end of a chapter. Now the sun brought with it the realization that time waits and stands still for no one, and that each day, we grow closer to the end of our mortality. He sat in his bed and as he did every morning and he true hard to find a reason as to why he should even bother. He sought an answer and it didn’t come, but it didn’t surprise him. The answer never seemed to be apparent and he knew it never would be. He strangely was ok with that and had accepted it. He had accepted his life and what it was meant to be a very long time ago. He dressed himself and began his day. Another day to be added to the the 12,410 previous.