emanon,
4mi. 27:36.50. I’m getting a little slower than my past few runs. Sweat runs from my temples down to my chin, from my neck down to my shoulders and back, and all limbs are also drenched. My heartbeat is faster than the way my legs worked my run a while ago. Trying to catch my breath, I look up as I pant. The sky is different now from when I started running: from a hue that of cinnabar, it turned into a mellow shade of dark blue. The frigid wind of February blends with the sweat that covers my skin—cold.
Every mile was hell—to my legs, my lungs, my mind, my heart. I thought it’d only beat me physically—I was wrong. The first strong strides were completely normal, but as I progressed, as I grew weary, my mind started working as well. Thoughts started crashing in one after the other—thoughts of you, of us, and of everything with it. It’s funny how I pondered about my life in half an hour.
1st mi. 6:48.10. Too fast—it was all too fast. We met, and after a few awkward moments, we clicked. I loved the warmth of your company. You listened to me and all the nonsense I blabbered about, and so did I to you. We shared a lot of things together—realizations on life, stories about the person we like, experiences no matter how stupid they were, and moments spent together. From the most random boiling down to the deepest sentiment, we had them all. You became my go-to person, a friend I could always lean on. Without noticing, I got used to you being around and I have to admit, I never felt this kind of comfort around someone for a long time.
2nd mi. 6:57.15. Sluggish—as if the world turned a little slower than usual. Nights felt longer—every evening conversation mattered. Hugs felt warmer than they were before. You paint smiles on my face. And it was quite dull when you weren’t around. You started to look different in my eyes. We were a step farther from being friends—a little closer I guess. Until to my heart, you stood by. It was as if you moved close to the warmth of a bonfire in the middle of a cold night. Slowly, slowly, little by little, you moved close—too close that you burned yourself from the fire.
3rd mi. 6:51.18. Panic—I lost hold of the pace. The same heat was burning me too. I’m afraid of the fire, of the thing that I was feeling for I felt that it was not right—I was afraid of love. For a long time, I believed that love would only break after some time. The strong bond you made would only be broken by some force you are not aware of, leaving you helpless, alone, begging for the thing you once felt before. I didn’t want that to happen to us, not because I didn’t believe in the chances that it’d be you and me in the end, but because I didn’t want to risk it. And my fear, my loss of heart, led me to run away from everything that was happening—led us to part. I thought it was the right thing to do—to burn bridges before they were even built.
4th mi. 7:00.07. Too long—it felt like we’ve been away for too long. Stupid decisions yield stupid results—burning bridges ended up burning me. It was so ironic that the event I tried to avoid only ended up happening. What I ran away from now chases me down when I thought I have already left it behind. Our time together that I treasured and protected is now just ashes and memories of the past. Now, I lost you, together with a part of me that you held in your hands. What’s worse is that I can never run back, or if I did, some things aren’t really capable of repair anymore.
Looking up as my sweat runs down my body, I wondered. I’ve been running for a few days, weeks, or maybe even months now—why was I even doing this? To run away from everything again? Those 4 miles felt like an eternity, maybe I shouldn’t have done it in the first place. I took a sip of my water bottle, grabbed my towel, wiped the sweat off of me, and packed up to head home. Heavy breaths, sore limbs, my vision spinning round—I’m tired of running, of thinking, of feeling.
I just want to rest.
Literary: Run Away
4mi. 27:36.50. I’m getting a little slower than my past few runs. Sweat runs from my temples down to my chin, from my neck down to my shoulders and back, and all limbs are also drenched. My heartbeat is faster than the way my legs worked my run a while ago. Trying to catch my breath, I look up as I pant. The sky is different now from when I started running: from a hue that of cinnabar, it turned into a mellow shade of dark blue. The frigid wind of February blends with the sweat that covers my skin—cold.
Every mile was hell—to my legs, my lungs, my mind, my heart. I thought it’d only beat me physically—I was wrong. The first strong strides were completely normal, but as I progressed, as I grew weary, my mind started working as well. Thoughts started crashing in one after the other—thoughts of you, of us, and of everything with it. It’s funny how I pondered about my life in half an hour.
1st mi. 6:48.10. Too fast—it was all too fast. We met, and after a few awkward moments, we clicked. I loved the warmth of your company. You listened to me and all the nonsense I blabbered about, and so did I to you. We shared a lot of things together—realizations on life, stories about the person we like, experiences no matter how stupid they were, and moments spent together. From the most random boiling down to the deepest sentiment, we had them all. You became my go-to person, a friend I could always lean on. Without noticing, I got used to you being around and I have to admit, I never felt this kind of comfort around someone for a long time.
2nd mi. 6:57.15. Sluggish—as if the world turned a little slower than usual. Nights felt longer—every evening conversation mattered. Hugs felt warmer than they were before. You paint smiles on my face. And it was quite dull when you weren’t around. You started to look different in my eyes. We were a step farther from being friends—a little closer I guess. Until to my heart, you stood by. It was as if you moved close to the warmth of a bonfire in the middle of a cold night. Slowly, slowly, little by little, you moved close—too close that you burned yourself from the fire.
3rd mi. 6:51.18. Panic—I lost hold of the pace. The same heat was burning me too. I’m afraid of the fire, of the thing that I was feeling for I felt that it was not right—I was afraid of love. For a long time, I believed that love would only break after some time. The strong bond you made would only be broken by some force you are not aware of, leaving you helpless, alone, begging for the thing you once felt before. I didn’t want that to happen to us, not because I didn’t believe in the chances that it’d be you and me in the end, but because I didn’t want to risk it. And my fear, my loss of heart, led me to run away from everything that was happening—led us to part. I thought it was the right thing to do—to burn bridges before they were even built.
4th mi. 7:00.07. Too long—it felt like we’ve been away for too long. Stupid decisions yield stupid results—burning bridges ended up burning me. It was so ironic that the event I tried to avoid only ended up happening. What I ran away from now chases me down when I thought I have already left it behind. Our time together that I treasured and protected is now just ashes and memories of the past. Now, I lost you, together with a part of me that you held in your hands. What’s worse is that I can never run back, or if I did, some things aren’t really capable of repair anymore.
Looking up as my sweat runs down my body, I wondered. I’ve been running for a few days, weeks, or maybe even months now—why was I even doing this? To run away from everything again? Those 4 miles felt like an eternity, maybe I shouldn’t have done it in the first place. I took a sip of my water bottle, grabbed my towel, wiped the sweat off of me, and packed up to head home. Heavy breaths, sore limbs, my vision spinning round—I’m tired of running, of thinking, of feeling.
I just want to rest.
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