I want to run

Run and run and run.

I want to run.

Run and run—

so fast through life that I catch up with nothing, and nothing catches up with me.

I want the kind of speed that blurs the world into colors, no faces, no names, no meaning.

So fast that when I stop, the crash would be the death of me.

Not out of recklessness, but relief.

I want to run so fast that I don't see the cracks in the walls,

or the quiet violence in people’s hands.

So fast I don’t notice the way love turns into obligation,

or how “I’m fine” becomes a funeral.

I want to vanish between seconds,

between breaths,

between the need to scream and the fear of being heard.

There is a part of me that craves freedom,

and another that wants to be caged by it.

To be trapped in motion,

so I never have to look pain in the eye long enough for it to recognize me.

I am tired of running from the ghosts of moments I never lived properly.

Tired of dodging the weight of memories that were too heavy to carry,

but too sacred to drop.

Because slowing down means seeing.

And seeing means remembering.

And remembering means feeling.

And God, I don’t want to feel.

I don’t want to feel how people leave but leave parts of themselves behind.

How words can slice deeper than silence.

How sometimes love comes with barbed wire,

and sometimes, you hold on anyway—just to say you did.

I don’t want to notice how lonely the sky looks some nights.

Or how even laughter feels like a lie when it’s echoing off empty ribs.

I don’t want to feel the hunger for connection,

or the shame that comes when you admit that you're starving.

So I run.

Because running is easier than unraveling.

But even motion has its monsters.

And lately,

I’m not sure if I’m running toward something

or just trying to stay ahead of the collapse.

And maybe,

Just maybe

I’m not afraid of feeling nothing.

Maybe I’m afraid of feeling everything.

The weight of it.

The truth of it.

The way it seeps into the cracks I tried so hard to outrun.

Because feeling means I have to stop.

And stopping means I have to face what I’ve been running from.

And I don’t know if I’m ready to meet myself there..