The Race

I feel like I’m running a race toward the finish line but I get to the end and there is no finish line there is a teacup and a block of cheese and a screwdriver and suddenly my throat is filled with silt and I am blinded by gusts of confetti and all I hear is what were you thinking you knew better so I fall to my knees and search for the last time I was loved, truly loved and my mind races flips through files until it reaches the last one which contains only one page with one word written on it in black Sharpie: begin

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