My feet follow each other silently. A race to see which one can pass the other more swiftly, even though when I stand still they will reach the same destination. My top row of teeth overshadow my bottom, while at that same time the bottom claws at the top resiliently. My nose is first to find out about certain things, and this make my eyes and mouth jealous. Competition is food for the human spirit. It is what I desire and many others, yet due to my injury, I am alone.

I injured myself yesterday at my first pro tryout. I made the team, but was informed that I would have to rehab for the next couple months. Flowers and baskets of sweets filled my hospital room. A reminder of all the good people out there wishing me well.

Yet, I couldn't help but loathe my current situation. I was nothing, and my dreams were the sky. By my age Alexander was already well on his way to becoming a great general. Meanwhile, I am stuck in bed for the coming days. He will feed on victory, I will on chips and soda.

My mother does not like my mindset despite all the okay things I have done. She says that it will be my downfall. Like Icarus.

Yet.

I would rather fall from the sky than fall from nothing.

Transcend humanity. Transcend my own two feet and my own two eyes. Become great or become nothing.

I weep.

Not at my condition. But only at my own former incompetence. How can one live in this world and not have aspirations of grandeur.