I like to run.
Whenever I am late or when I’m the only person in the path walk, I run. It keeps me going.
I want to feel the beat of my heart against my chest, to pant when I feel the chaos in my lungs as they grasp for air, to heave my legs heavily with every lift and every stomp. And every lap I finished, an almost gained victory burst inside my ribcage like a bomb detonated.
I love the emotions escaping my mind. My piece of peace.
I love to run.
I love to forget why I run.
I want to forget that once we ran away to escape what we had left behind.
Now you run away, leaving everything on my shoulders.
I want to run too. To escape.
I love to run. I feel that it will keep me going. Running. Running.
