A merican Dream

By Marley Hillman

“Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”

These are the three golden truths American citizens are born for, from the time of conception in our Statue of Liberty Torched, Uncle Samified, eagle screeching country’s womb.

We hold these truths in our hands, delicately placing them to the left side of our chest when we pledge allegiance. Each line recited in tiny voices, unified but staggered. When I stood alongside my peers every morning for 12 years, staring at our perfectly starred and striped flag, I can’t say I expected my instilled patriotism to support a lifetime of sheer pursuit.

I’m honored to live in liberty, doing as I please in the name of freedom. One could even argue I’m blessed, but pursuit – how do I come to justify? The big white-wigged men wisely closed their cute phrase with verbiage that signals action. Action towards whose happiness? Theirs or mine? Why am I chasing what should already live inside of me? They must’ve figured life and liberty were shining beacons of glory enough, that it made no difference how or when we attained true happiness, if we ever did at all.

Despite my skepticism, there are parts of me that forget pursuit. I inherently understand it, it’s primal wiring. I want things so I chase after them. I’m compliant. I’m numb. I’m hungry so I obey and I don’t think. So sure, put me in the race, I’ll dig for my shoes, lace them up real tight, and start running.

I’ll pace myself, and when I see someone panting in my peripheral, I’ll speed up. If there happens to be a hurdle, I’ll jump over it. I’ll keep going and stare onto the track, forever bridged to itself. I’ll keep running until I’m out of breath, and I won’t hear any cheers of encouragement parading from the bleachers, because there’s no choice to cheer when everyone who’s there is expected to compete.

When my body inevitably loses feeling, and my brain fails to signal, I’ll forget what I’m racing for I’ll fail to imagine that there was ever a medal to be won, and that maybe all the others lost feeling too. We use every ounce of energy we have to pursue – for who?

It’s all cynical, and I know deep within me the Declaration of Independence is a document that has given me the opportunity to critique it. However, greed has corrupted any good intention we’ve been graced with as a country, and shielded our ability to connect with our pure desires. Our inherent happiness is camouflaged by barcodes and torn receipts

Beads of sweat born from the edge of my hairline run down my eyelid, down my cheek, onto my chin.

They keep falling and falling until my chest is wet, as if they’re racing to see who will get there first, only to join one another in a wet reserve.

They’ll be washed away, into a new cycle of perspiration.

More form as my heartbeat picks up, and I can no longer identify where they’re coming from.

What’s the rush? There’s no winner, they just merge into one another, and in thirty minutes, when I take a shower, their speed wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

No medal, no reward. Only another cycle, another race.