He wakes up, tired.

As usual, the common man did not get enough sleep. Working overtime became the norm. Being sleep
deprived, became required. Giving his life in exchange for the ability to remain alive, became
unchangeable.
The common man knew it. He had known for a while now. There was a lot of regret in his past. Many lost
opportunities. But he had no guide, no leader. No one was there to help him when he couldn’t help
himself. Who could blame him?
Now they all demand him to pull his own weight, even when they don’t give him the tools to do so.
The common man gets up and starts his coffeemaker. The precious coffee was his biggest weapon. To
remain awake, that is. There were not many drugs the common man would put inside his body. The
coffee was to work. The weed was to live. The only way to live. The only way the common man could truly
be at peace. There was always so much going on. Bills, schedules, meetings, more bills, cooking,
showering, more bills, yelling, rudeness, and of course, more bills.
They were, in fact, endless, the bills. There was always more coming. Always more. Nonstop. They told
him to get insurance to protect himself, but they only cared about enriching themselves. The common
man knew. He knew about all their corrupt habits, all their evil schemes.
There was no escape for the common man, for no enemy was ever in sight. He could not fight. He could
not resist. They lived in another reality, and the common man knew they were untouchable.
After drinking a big mug of his bitter coffee, he got ready. Put his clothes on, dreaded eating breakfast, for
no taste could be tasted by his bitter tongue. He left, got in his car, and drove. Drove for a long time
before arriving at his destination. There, the worst and longest part of the day was taking place.
The common man’s mind was numb, most of the time. Not for the drugs, but for the perspective. Or the
lack thereof, that is. The common man had no future. He only lived a day after another. A paycheck after
paycheck.
Invest! They said. Work hard! They said.
Exchange the limited time you have for the things we decide matter, is what they meant.
They didn’t know better; the common man would say to himself. They were raised like that. Chunks of
clay, molded by the machinery of the state, to become a brick and fit perfectly in the wall. The wall that
kept on growing, but never changing.
They say things change. They say one must adapt. But they don’t mean it. Things never change. The
common man still lives under the bridge. The bridge that unites people and their dreams. The bridge he
will never cross.
After hours and hours of numb work, the common man’s shift ended. Another day for the books. Another
chance of living life wasted.
It is okay.
The common man would say. But he knew it was not. He chose to blind himself from the numbers. For
the numbers never lied, and he feared the truth. Scared of the ongoing countdown before the end of
everything. He knew there was no going back from that bitter end. He knew that this was his one chance.
And because of that, he was sad. As he has always been.
Sad for the regret, that was already growing in him. Sad for the regret that was still to come. And it would
come. Oh, yes it would. He knew that, which makes everything worse.
Being aware. Conscious. Knowing full well of the wrongdoings happening around him. Enlightened by the
fact that his life, for more depressing, sad, painful, and useless as it was, was still better than most.
Once back home, the common man was still tired. There was not enough time in a day to fulfill all his
duties. There never was. He stopped going to the gym because there was no time. He stopped playing
video games because he was too tired. He stopped reading because he needed to cook.
No. Not really. Those were all excuses. Things he told himself to run away from the harsh truth.
They lied to him. They lied to everyone.
They said we could be anything we wanted, but we can’t.
They said all dreams come true, but they don’t.
They said many things and many lies.
The common man dreaded another day. His social circle was small, almost nonexistent. The rare
occasions in which he would see the ones he called friends were, well, rare.
Life happens. Everyone says.
And it does indeed. We watch it happening, mesmerized by everything and nothing at the same time.
Fixated on the things that give our daily dopamine. We watch life happening and forget to be part of it.
The common man went out, ate with friends, talked about some interesting things, and then went home.
He was feeling better. He always felt better after living life for a little bit. But because of the rules they put
upon society, there were only small moments like that. Most of the time, life was preserving and
protecting, not exploring.
The common man lived his days like that for years. Finally, he reached the golden age. Retirement. He
was excited. For the first time as an adult, he would live life. He would go places, see things, study
interesting subjects, meet new people, eat exotic foods. Ultimately, create memories.
It was tough realizing how much of those things he wouldn’t do. They gave him money, yes. They
thanked him for the years he exchanged of his life, by giving him the necessary to survive. The living part
was still up to the common man.
So, he could choose between only surviving, or working more to get his lapses of life every once in a
while.
The latter seemed more appropriate. In his late life, the common man would admire young people. See
their dreams reflected in their eyes. The sea of possibilities emanates through their skin. That excitement
he had lost many years ago. He knew lots of them would lose that, as he did. And yet, he was grateful.
Grateful for not having the same destiny that millions of people had. Billions, perhaps. The one of extreme
poverty. The one to be born without a chance of living. The one where survival was the only word known.
It could have been worse, he thought.
And in fact, it could. It could have been much worse. Hell, the things they do to the weak. Disgusting. The
few overpowered the many. The common man didn’t have any hope for changes. The many were
preoccupied surviving whereas the few were living. It was a no-brainer. Like starting a chess match
without the queen and the two towers. What are the chances given there? What are the odds the game
will turn in my favor?
Not many, he knew. The common man cried for the unlucky players. The ones that never even learned
how to play. The ones on the bottom, prisoners of a game they never agreed to play.
He cried for them, but he also cried for the others. The few. On their extreme lack of vision. On their
stupidity and close minds.
Give a man a fish, and you will feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he will invent new methods of
fishing.
The possibilities!
That was the worst part. The common man cried on the wasted potential. On the brilliant minds lost to
starvation. How many Einsteins have we lost? How many Teslas? How many Curies?
The few were too blind to see. They enjoyed the creations of the brilliant, without realizing how much
more they were missing on. Without the perception that if we all win, our victory would be much, much
greater. Their minds were closed, and the keys for their cells had been lost while they focused on winning
the game. They never realized we were on the same team. They never realized how much more fun the
game could be.
The common man sits in his chair, after another day of work. The sun sets slowly on the horizon. The
beautiful orange light colors the sky. There is peace in the air. For a moment, there are no cars, no loud
neighbors, no shots, no police, no airplanes, no politicians, no news, no nothing. Just the dim sunlight and
a smooth light breeze hitting his skin. For the first time in decades, he has hope. As he closes his eyes
one last time, the common man smiles widely, realizing the one final truth. The truth nobody knew, for the
enlightened were already dead.
The truth nobody shared. The truth nobody wanted to know.