Run Until You Turn Weightless

Run little girl; run until your lungs give out and your legs scream for an end, and then keep running. Life is a race, little one, and if you run fast enough you just might win. But be careful; there are obstacles ready to be thrown in your way, and sometimes the cars refuse to merge. It's hard sometimes to keep going - I know it is - but trust me, just keep running and it'll get easier: you'll get stronger and sooner or later your lungs will expand and your legs will numb and your body will rise up and down with the buoyancy of ease and become weightless. So run little girl; run until your legs turn strong and your lungs don't burn as brightly. Run until the pavement and the heat and the exhaustion disappear and you're simply floating on air. Run until your body goes numb and all you feel is the splendid natural high of endorphins fighting the pain. They told me to stop running - silly doctors - they worry that my body can't take it. What they will never understand is that my body needs this: I need this because it stops the pain. I run to feel and not to feel. I run to escape because life seems so much simpler when it's just you and the road and a pair of worn out sneakers. I run because it's the only thing I know how to do anymore. I run because, if I didn't, I'd be running on the inside anyways, and I might as well get somewhere. So run little girl; run because it heals your wounds. Run because it's the only thing you're good at. Run because eventually you'll get stronger, and one day you'll be able to breathe again.