Obstacle

The wall before me is... Big. Big is the wrong word. Large, immense, towering, imposing. These are all inaccurate. Big is the wrong word, it is the only word.

It rises above me the precise height necessary to be unscalable. It stretches to the left exactly as far as it needs to, the right mirroring it perfectly. I would imagine it extends below my feet, but the ground is unmoved. I haven't checked.

The wall before me is big and blank and blank is also wrong. Blank is all it is. Every mark I've made on the surfaces fades, every scratch fills itself when I blink.

I must get beyond this wall, obviously. Climb, circumvent, destroy or remove it in some way. This wall, big and blank, is in my way and I won't stand for that. I sit down.

I've tried to climb it, you should realize that by now. I get close to the top, my fingers brushing the edge. And then I slip, or the ground quakes, or the wall is suddenly slick with water. I've walked left and right and the center follows me. However many steps I take, my wall is the same length.

This wall vexes me, mocks me with its absolute refusal to be described or crossed.

I'm still sitting, in case you were wondering. I spent the morning running to the right. In the afternoon, I was inching my way up the side, trying to take the top by surprise. This evening I ran left. I am tired.

But I must cross the wall and sitting won't help. I've tried that, you know, of course I have. I'll try a frontal assault. Again.

Digging my nails into the surface, I try to bring it down. It chips away slowly under my attack. And each blink of my eyes, every momentary rest for breath, sees it repaired. No progress is made.

My nails catch, tear. I bleed. Dripping into the temporary damage, my blood does what my strength could not. It makes the damage permanent.

This wall, my wall, my enemy and constant companion, wants me to bleed. I will oblige.

So I am through. I couldn't see from the other side, but it was exactly thick enough to take almost everything I had. The wall is destroyed and I am nearly so.

Nearly. That is enough to go on for now. It is enough breath left, enough time, enough strength. Nearly is not all, nearly can be healed. I will rest here in the ruins of my wall. Close my eyes and build myself back up. I need my strength.

Before me, the wall is... Big.