Movement is weird.
You put one foot in front of the other and you're in a different spot. Roll something in a circle in 3D and it changes location.
What's even weirder is the fact that a soul doesn't need to oil its bones with combustible gases or solve out the mathematics of movement before it begins to move. An idea forms in the depths of the mind and the legs suddenly know they have to move, where they have to go.
So what differentiates those who arrive at their destination from those who don't. What differentiates those who even arrive at a destination that isn't theirs to begin with. A destination that feels like it is “missing something”. A destination that doesn't feel like home.
I know, they always say never to quit. Never to give up. Never to back down. What they did not tell you was that it wasn't your legs that were responsible – legs that gave out due to exhaustion, or the arm stretched out clutching a piece of white cloth, or the head that sometimes froze in the glaring headlights of life.
What they didn't tell you, was that it wasn't that other people were trying to beat you down, it was that you took the sticks and stones yourself, your hands knowing what to do in that familiar way, and then lay down.