Sometimes
I feel like running away. Feeling the wind on my face, on a blank road ahead
all for myself. Even if I close my eyes, I wouldn’t bang into anything.
If
that helps me to leave behind everything. And if it really helps, I would like
to run even faster. I would keep running till my limbs give up, the oxygen runs
out and I am exhausted. Then I’ll just lay there thinking about oxygen and
exhaustion and the annoying pain in my limbs.
I
would want to run till the wind moving against me tries so hard to stop me and
I’d still want to run faster than before. And every time that I am successful
in defeating it, I would want to stop for a microsecond and look back and laugh
at it. And then I would again want to run extremely fast, my speed ever
increasing, that at one point I am no longer solid. Having left behind what
made me substance, I’m just energy now, invisible, impervious, untouchable.
You
can’t know I’m there unless you’re the force driving me.
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