Running

Running. The muffled thud of my worn out sneakers on the asphalt. The most beautiful sound I've ever heard. Making sweet melodies with my breathing and treading and the passing cars. Acting as a blinder from the world.

That's all it is for me. An escape. Because when I take off down the sidewalk, thinking of nowhere, I feel as though I could run forever. I would. But eventually all the turns on my route lead me right back to the starting line and I'm sucked back into a tragic world where you can't even appreciate the stars because of the street lights.

But I could care less. Because I'm doing what I do best. Lungs burning legs tingling and it's the sweet sting of victory that I've come to love and yearn for. That I've out run them all. The entire city. Everyone who loves me and I'm getting away. Finally.

But I find myself trapped once more. In a life of Abercrombie and Fitch and where what's on the inside doesn't really count but it's part of the required curriculum so the teachers remind you in a condescending tone that really says that you'll never be anything. Just so kids like me feel like we matter.

But we don't. Not really. Maybe to our mommies and daddies but we quickly find that everyone else could give two fucks. But out there I'm somebody. Even if only to me. And that's why everyday I go to sleep and can't wait to take off the next day. Running.