sometimes, my feet ache. i feel this strange sensation in my veins and my head is screaming at my feet to just do something; anything. they never do. it's because of you. 

it's frustrating. cause they're afraid. not only are my feet afraid, but i am too. what happens if i do start running? you'll find me. you'll catch up to me. you'll pull me into your grasp again and you'll squeeze all of the freedom out of me like it's liquid gold. that's why i can't run. 

i can fight back, though. i may not have enough strength to beat you entirely, but i have enough that will scrape you up a bit. and with each scrape, i'll be closer to freedom. i've been scraping for six years now. it gets exhausting, and almost redundant in a way. 

i know how bad you had it as a kid. i know that i'm privileged, and blessed, and everything else you've said. but that doesn't mean i can't be afraid. you tell me i have no reason to be afraid, no reason to cry, no reason to be angry. in response, i've always agreed with you and apologized. but in reality, i want to yell. i want to tell you that you're the reason i'm afraid of everything, the reason i cry about almost anything, the reason i'm fuming on the inside. 

i'm too afraid to tell you that. call me a coward. call me chicken. i don't care. 

i wonder. if you saw how afraid of you i really am, would you back off? would you let me live as a normal teenager? would you let me love myself? 

only time will tell. for now, i'll fantasize about running. 

-s.