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February 4, 2020
I am on the final straight. I am okay with it. Fucked knees and flat feet, stumbling for the line. They’re still overtaking me; of course they are. The alphas, the betas, even the zetas. I could never measure up, but I have accepted that, so I run, now, in the way I did not at school, when I rebelled against the now obvious truth that I am an omega, and always will be. I run to the line, happy in the knowledge that I will be last no matter where I finish, no matter who dies first. Loser. Winning.