They aren't mine. These legs don't belong to me. I wasn't born with them, I didn't ask for them, they weren't a gift. They're a curse. A curse as heavy as concrete shoes. I was thrown from the bridge into the murky waters of this hellish afterlife. Am I alive? I don't bleed anymore, it's not blood that courses through these artificial veins. Am I dead? If so why does my soul long for true peace? Is this a punishment? Is it a trial? What happened to the flesh and bone that I broke and damaged as a child? Was it just thrown away? Unnecessary parts just discarded on the street?
My feet aren't mine, they belong to a mask, to a vision, to the author of my suffering. I've stolen them, only to wonder why I keep going on with these filched limbs. But if I left them behind I'd have nothing to stand on. How can a necessity cause so much anguish?
Sometimes I dream of my legs, the ones I knew so well. With scars on the knees, and hair growing out of the follicles. I had real toenails once, and a scar on my ankle from breaking it when I jumped off a balcony. Those are memories of a human life. The badges of a balanced existence, king of the animals, but still fragile enough to bleed from biting my own tongue. Now I can't even do that. I have no honor scars anymore, I have an eternity of existence and no hope for my future.
No these legs were not my desire, but they're mine now. I have to make due with what I have, no matter how heavy they weigh on my soul. Perhaps I can turn my curse into a blessing. Use this weight to protect my home, give these legs to the innocent and weak. But I'm still not sure so I'll just have to wait and see.