Everyone’s going somewhere. The “why” is always unknown. It seems like we all just know either by instinct or by the forces that control us, that we should always chase after things. We assume that moving is what we were made for. To cease movement is to cease existence.
All these chasing after and moving forward is making me old – like how we all should be.
But why? Why do i have to keep chasing after things? Why do I have to keep making dreams and keep pushing myself to make them into a reality? Can we not be happy without all these running?
Forrest is running. The white rabbit is always late. The caterpillars have made their pillar. Even the switchman has seen this and has remained passive.
Tell me, why are you running?