Run Fly Away

I don't deal well with conflict or confrontation. When I was young and did something bad, I pretended like I did nothing at all. When my parents found out that I had broke a glass but was too scared to tell them - instead, I wrapped it in paper towel and hid it in my desk drawer for months - they came to talk to me about it, but I lay under my covers, my face in the pillow, pretending that I was asleep. My escape when I was a child was playing pretend, acting. I still don't deal well when faced with a problem and sometimes I still do hide from it and act like nothing is wrong. And at other times, I simply run away from it.

When I'm desperate, I do stupid things and sometimes I get caught for them. Instead of taking a shower to wash myself of my sins, I run. My liberation is flying down my front steps. And as I'm running away from everything that I know, I think to myself:

Run and run and run in one long straight-away, as far as you can go, farther than your eyes can see. Run until your muscles are tight and tired and trembling. Run until your heart pounds against your chest like your feet do on the pavement. Run until your skin is red and throbs with heat, until you feel as though you are giving off as much warmth as the sun. Run until your shoulders glisten, until drops run down your face, down your neck, until you drip with sweat and your entire body is expelling all the toxins that never belonged there in the first place. Run until your clothes are soaked, until you are wet and drenched, ironically fresh, as though you just emerged from The Ocean herself. Run until your breath is ragged, until it escapes your throat like fire, until your nostrils burn to take it in. Run until your body begs, begs you to stop, begs you to remember that you are only human and can only go so far for so long. Run until your entire being goes limp. Run until you are no longer yourself, but all that which is around you. Run until you fly.
6:32 pm