I was running.

I was running so hard- pumping my arms, my hands gripped in fists, nailings digging into my palms. Panting, lips dry, sweat dripping, legs aching, eyes squinting. It was dark, gray all around me, none of my surroundings registering, and I refused to feel. I refused to be vulnerable to anything, to stop my running and give in to being tired. And most of all I refused to be scared. I had been running all of my life. I was running for my life.

And then slam there was a huge wall, and I didn’t see it until I ran straight into it. My head hit first, then the palms of my hands, then the rest of my body, full force. I slid to the ground, injured, probably bleeding. But that would heal.

It was only when I was sitting, still panting heavily, that I realized I had been crying, tears pouring down my cheeks and over onto my neck. The whole time I had been running, I was crying.

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