Late

I have always believed that I was misplaced, born at the wrong time. I try to catch up to where they tell me I'm supposed to be, but I fall behind. I’ve earned a reputation for taking my time. The urgency of others shakes me to uneasy, and the pressure to match their pace holds me back. As I struggle to find a pair of matching socks, I feel the heaviness in my feet. No matter how hard I step, the footprint remains too small. This sensation started as early as I can remember, watching my peers excel before me, as if everyone was in on a secret I did not know. This shows up in my dreams. As I sleep, my subconscious takes me to my greatest fears, and I watch myself arriving late to my prom, my graduation, childhood performances, and the wedding I have yet to have. No matter what, something always stops me from arriving when I should. I live with the fear that even if I sprint, I’ll still be last, and that if I’m last, no one will be there to greet me at the finish line. Maybe I feel this way because I’ve been misplaced. I yearn for reason in what feels like a mistake. I imagine myself living through times I’ll never get to live. What if then and there, I wouldn’t have to run?