Run.

Do you ever want to run? Just run. Not run to get somewhere. Not run to exercise. But run for the sole reason that you need to hear the sound of not being able to hear anything at all. Run to feel the air flying past your ears. Run to feel it stinging at your eyes.

You want to run but you know running won't get you anywhere. You know that you could run five, ten, fifty, a hundred miles, and eventually, you would have to stop, and turn around and walk back home.

And as you would run those five, ten, fifty, hundred miles, you would feel everything lift from you. You would feel the things you were running from float away. You would know what it was like for nothing to be able to catch you.

You would reach the point where nothing could touch you. Then, you would stop. You would stop and take in the freedom. You would scream and let everything go. You would see the beauty of the horizon. You would feel the blood in your veins course through you. You would feel your heart try to pound itself out of your chest.

Then you would turn around. You would turn around and begin to walk. You would walk for five, ten, fifty, a hundred miles. And as you walked, those things that floated away so quickly would fall right back down. Those things would fall and hit your shoulders. They would take hold of you again. You would feel their weight pressing on you, pushing you back down to Earth, pushing you back towards the place you came from.

You would walk back to the place you ran from. You would reach home, carrying with you the same things you left with. You would feel them chained to you once more.

You would succumb to your own exhaustion. Collapse. Hear yourself breathe. Feel the blood in your veins. No one would know why you run. They would see your exhaustion. They would see nothing change. They would see the same chains as before.

You wouldn't dare tell them why you run. You wouldn't tell them about the moment where you stand and breathe, free and alive.

You would smile, and lace up another pair of running shoes.