Freedom is...

Sun, 10/26/2014 - 13:09 -- Shelene

Running, running, running.

I always end up in the same place, always end up seeing the same faces.

Faces of pitty.

That's what they are.

They look at me and see pain, they try to help, they try to console.

I don't want their help, I've met them before.

They can't help me.

No one can.

So I run and I run, I feel the wind blowing in my hair, I feel the tears sliding across my face in wet trails. I run until my legs are like ancors, weighing me down into a deep abyss, a lifeless sea.

I run and I run and I don't stop.

I run until my legs give in, until my breathing is so uneven it scares me.

But I continue to run.

I continue to run and then I start to recognize, I start to see.

I know these faces, I know these trees, these hands which cover me from head to toe, I know them.

I've been going in circles the whole time.

I've been going in circles and didn't realize until I stopped.

Why do I do this?

Why must I run in circles?

I want to be free, that's what I want.

I want to be free of the hands and breathe the fresh air, feel the carpet of grass beneath my feet.

That's what I want.

But I can't have that.

I will never have that.

Why?

Because I run in circles, all I do is run in circles until I get too tired.

But when I'm tired I don't want to stop, I know I can't stop.

Because when I'm tired I know that I am close to being free, I can feel it on my fingertips.

So why do I stop?

When the air just reaches me, why do I stop?

I can keep going and I can be free.

But I don't.

I stop.

I stop running because I know that if I keep going, my legs will give in, my legs will give in and I will collapse to the dirt ground.

So I stop.

I stop running because where I am now, at least I can brush freedom with my fingertips, at least I can get one breath of its fresh air.

If I keep running, I lose it, and if I lose it, I die.

All I need is to be free, all I need is to be free.

Freedom is happiness, freedom is love.

To be free is to feel the grass beneath your toes and to feel the wind blow each and every strand of your hair into a beautiful wild frenzy around you.

The air that freedom holds is fresh on your tongue, clean as it brushes your deprived skin.

You're grey, but you will be beautiful once again, you will be colored in by what freedom provides.

Freedom will wrap you in its warm blanket and it won't let go.

With freedom comes love.

With freedom comes peace.

I want freedom because I am trapped in a world consumed by fear, blanketed in a coat of fire that threatens to destroy me.

I will run forever until I come upon my last breath of fear and pain, and the darkness will close in on me.

I will be afraid, I will be very afraid as my world becomes engulfed in a sheet of black, nothing will exist for me anymore.

When I am dying, I will feel a hand on my chest, a hand on my heart.

I should have let them help me.

Why didn't I let the help me?

His hand will feel my heart as it slows, feel my soul as it slips away.

When my heart stops, they will frown, and they will walk away.

No tears for me, no broken hearts, what's what I have made for myself.

Absolutley nothing.

But I'm still running, I'm still alive.

I still have a chance.

So I will run and run, and I won't stop.

I won't let my legs give in, I won't let my body fall, I will keep going.

I will run and run, I will run until I am free, and I will not stop.

I will not stop when my legs grow weak, I will not stop when my heart pounds in my chest.

I will push and push until I break the barrier, I will push and push until I can breathe, I will push and push until I feel the grass beneath my feet, I will push and push and push until I am free.

I will be free.

I will be free.

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