Scream

“I should be there! I must be! There is no room for defect!”
I was running, running in anxiety, running in horror, not horror but the panic that: “Will I get there at the time? Will I?”
I ran. I ran and I watched scenes that were passing by. I was in fury and I couldn't stop. Whole my life seemed to be just spinning around going there at the exact time. I passed passengers, I passed people whom I thought had something to say me, a kind of "Hello!" in a bright sunshine. But I couldn't stop.
I reached the hill. I looked upside, toward the summit, and thought that what a long and exhausting way it would be to reach there. But I must. I had to. It was, at least I thought so, my duty.
I ran. I could hear my breaths screaming, my lungs being pressured. I could feel exhaustion in my feet. But I just kept running…

…So where is here now? I am on the summit and nothing has changed at all. They are people there, still saying "Hello!" in bright sunshine in the bottom, they are coming and going here and there, with their umbrellas, with their dogs, with their new shopped little things. But I am on the summit and seems that even if I scream "Hello!" they won't hear me, even if I scream.