I walk alone.
My footsteps are my own.
My choice.
My path.
My love.
My pain.
I don’t remember the street names.
I don’t remember their names.
Sometimes I ran.
I needed to feel alive, so I ran as fast as I could.
I needed to feel the fresh air.
I needed to remember that my heart was still there.
Even though I’m out of breath, the pounding in my chest vibrated my soul and kept me alive.
I ran for days.
I ran for weeks.
I ran for months.
Stopping gave me time to remember the things that hurt.
So I ran for years.
I won alot of races.
My trophies are invisible, only mines to see.
You get the end product.
Me.
