At times I am so angry I lose my ability to put letters into words, words into sentences.
And when I can’t write, I run.
I run until I can no longer breathe, a reminder of all the times you sucked the life out of me.
I run until my limbs go numb in the hope that my emotions might do the same.
I run until my head can think only of the way my body feels working underneath me.
I feel the science of it, a brilliant machine with parts designed perfectly and purposefully for this unique action.
I feel the beauty in my self inflicted suffering, the satisfying thrill of seeing what I’m capable of.
I run because I am desperately trying to chase down the girl I let you take from me.
I know she is there.
Her spirit burns proud and unyielding as the Olympic flame, for not even the Greek gods could extinguish it.
I run until my feet catch fire on the pavement, swallowing me up.
Wholly engulfed, that is where I find her again.