I love the feeling of the bass in my chest,
simulating a heartbeat when mine is absent
due to a lack of emotion,
or a lack of yours.
I love the feeling of running until I can’t anymore,
knowing I can push myself,
reach new limits.
I love knowing that I can beat you at this game,
the game you say you don’t play.
As trivial and pointless as it is,
it’s something I’m familiar with.
I love the feeling of knowing that I have a way to escape when it all becomes too much,
a way to put my emotion into something physical.
And it I’d give you the typical “You don’t understand me” routine,
but that’s too unoriginal.
However, original is what I’ll never be to you,
but rather expendable, disposable…
replaceable.