Where I live, the seasons come and go as they please, along with the day and night. Everything has been the same for as long as I can remember. The daily routine of waking up, brushing my teeth, and getting on the bus only to be disturbed by teenagers seemed like a part of my life now. After getting off of the bus to go in to my school, no matter what grade I was in, it never seemed to change. Whether I was in primary school, or middle school, everything always seemed the same. After school finally had ended, I would board the bus once again and look out the window. Everything passing by in such a blur made me wonder if anything would ever change. As we passed by the once lush field of grass that was now reduced to nothing but brown stubble due to the snowy winter, I saw a few horses. Some of the horses’ coats were as white as the cleanest alabaster fabric. Others were as red as rustic bricks on a cafe’s wall. They always seemed so peaceful, so carefree. It was like they didn’t care about what was coming tomorrow. Whether it was a blizzard or excruciating heat, they didn’t care. Oh, how I would love to be a horse. Never going back and doing the same annoying routine thing, always moving along and never looking back. These horses were the only thing keeping me going for the next day. They made me think to myself, that no matter what challenges I faced the next day, I would see the horses. There was one in particular that inspired me more, though. It was different from any other horse in that herd. Its hair was as jet black as a clear night with a new moon. It just seemed so wild, so free. It was so carefree that, compared to every other horse in that herd, it seemed like it had just drunk seven Monster Energy Drinks. This is the horse that inspired me the most. It made me think that maybe I needed to make some changes and become as carefree as the jet-black horse that stood out in the crowd of alabaster and red horses. And then I realized that all of the other horses were me, and the jet-black horse was just an opportunity, somewhere inside of me, waiting to happen.