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Sitting - Mikal Czeh

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I sit here knowing that it cannot last forever.  With each wanderer passing by I see a world of new opportunity.  All of these survivors with their many issues and their dramas.

I sit and think of the places these people have been.  I know it is crazy to remain in one place so long and maybe it is crazy; maybe I am crazy.  I am sitting here thinking to myself.

I sit here thinking that the view is nice, the sun is warm, the sky is blue, and the grass is still green.  I have the freedom to do what I want and when I want to.  People seem to find me curiosity.

I sit here thinking of what I could be missing.  What would I miss if I moved, though?  They are right.  It is hard to sit here for so long but I love it.

I sit here thinking that they believe I do not move.  I am some sort of a statue.  How can someone stay in one place for so long?  The answer is I have been doing it for so long.  We all have been doing it for so long but some choose to ignore this truth.

I sit here thinking about how many times I will be asked to why I am sitting here.  I guess I am a sort of anomaly.  What sinister thing could I be conceiving?  What good is there left in me?

I sit here thinking about how silly some people can be.  They can stop and find the time to reason with me.  They can stop and find the time to have a nice conversation.

I sit here thinking about how delicious this can of peaches is.  This rice is crunchy.  This water is a bit bitter.

I sit here thinking about the impending darkness.  Night always seems to mask those who wish to hide.  Whether they choose to hide from others or from themselves.

I sit here thinking about the tough people who only wish to put on a show.  A show of force.  Force is their answer to a pain deep inside themselves.  A pain which they wish to share and if they find happiness with my stuff then I have indeed helped them cope with their pain.

I sit here thinking about freedom.  We are all free.  They may not want to admit it but we are all completely free.  How they choose to express their freedom is always a dilema that others argue about.

I sit here thinking about why.  Why?  I trail off in so many other thoughts but it always remains.  Why?

The rain would eventually subside and the sun would peek from around the clouds.  The wamrth was a welcoming friend like so many he had met since he decided to sit.  This decision to sit was found to be weird by all but he would constantly assure them it is what he wanted and loved to do.  they would all pass by and accept his reasoning and sometimes offer their better ways.  He would remain steadfast but how long can one person just sit?

A familiar sound of footsteps approached and he knew he would either get the same gawking or a friendly greeting from those met before.  He dreads the day when someone would want to become angry of his sitting.  The footsteps stopped and a familiar voice greeted him.  He looked up to the source and replied, "Hello!  How are you?"

"Yes, I am still sitting here," he would answer most of the time.  

"Thank you and farewell," as the people would stop just long enough to inquire of his health and sanity and then decide to move on.

He would always close with the same goodbye as he wished it to always be true and he feared of not seeing the same friendly people again, "Do not get shot!"

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