"the quiet things that no one ever knows"
It has defined me for the last 5 years of my life. The sheet of cool breeze that touches my face every morning, the small beads of sweat that formulate on my lower back, the squeaky chirps of the birds only heard when the sun wakes up. The rhythm that my feet initiate, travels up my legs and into my hips. The cadence my body marches to is familiar and safe. My core remains stable as I trod along sand, dirt, rock, and road.
My bedroom is like a jail cell. I sit in it waiting for the sun to come up, so my body can loosen itself in the form it knows best. I lie horizontally for what feels like centuries, and when the smallest peak of light creeps through the clouds, I rise. I sit on the edge of my bed for only a moment, to look out my window to a world of unknown. Anything can happen today. I may not be here tonight. But since I have been given the gift of rising from this plane at this very moment, I will do so.
I sometimes feel like a child on Christmas. I anxiously await that moment when I can free myself to all the presents and gifts that are given to me when my foot meets the ground. It's as if every morning is a special day and I get to open a new gift of energy store one moment at a time, one breath at a time.
Currently, I lie trapped in this montage of events that seems to have gotten the best of me. The fear that quivers through each bone in my body is a strong force, like a wave forcing me under, not allowing for a breath. My body feels heavy, tired, unfocussed. I've lost touch of what it feels like to be free. The small things seem big when I've been told I cannot do what I love. I'm standing in the rain, looking up, hoping it will stop.
I miss myself. I miss the days of waking up smiling because the world is at my fingertips. The sense of invincibility heightened when I run to a new destination, at a new distance, in a new place. But the physical limitations my body seems to be facing leaves me defeated, pounded and thrashed in so many forms.
Running is such a gift. It seems like even the days when my body just doesn't want to function, when the ache in my gut refuses to subside, I can free myself from the tight grasp my stomach owns so deeply with a quiet jog through the woods. Maybe the act of running doesn't alleviate the pain, but it mentally alleviates the binding force and allows me to see beyond. And when physical exhaustion from exerting myself to a new extreme meets any other form of pain - I win. I have control, having utlitised the outlet I know best...
When I want it, I go and get it. It's simple. And now I lie here on a horizontal plane, unable to run. Curled up, with my knees in my chest, I fight this physical battle against myself. And I pray for these forms of affliction to disappear.
My bedroom is like a jail cell. I sit in it waiting for the sun to come up, so my body can loosen itself in the form it knows best. I lie horizontally for what feels like centuries, and when the smallest peak of light creeps through the clouds, I rise. I sit on the edge of my bed for only a moment, to look out my window to a world of unknown. Anything can happen today. I may not be here tonight. But since I have been given the gift of rising from this plane at this very moment, I will do so.
I sometimes feel like a child on Christmas. I anxiously await that moment when I can free myself to all the presents and gifts that are given to me when my foot meets the ground. It's as if every morning is a special day and I get to open a new gift of energy store one moment at a time, one breath at a time.
Currently, I lie trapped in this montage of events that seems to have gotten the best of me. The fear that quivers through each bone in my body is a strong force, like a wave forcing me under, not allowing for a breath. My body feels heavy, tired, unfocussed. I've lost touch of what it feels like to be free. The small things seem big when I've been told I cannot do what I love. I'm standing in the rain, looking up, hoping it will stop.
I miss myself. I miss the days of waking up smiling because the world is at my fingertips. The sense of invincibility heightened when I run to a new destination, at a new distance, in a new place. But the physical limitations my body seems to be facing leaves me defeated, pounded and thrashed in so many forms.
Running is such a gift. It seems like even the days when my body just doesn't want to function, when the ache in my gut refuses to subside, I can free myself from the tight grasp my stomach owns so deeply with a quiet jog through the woods. Maybe the act of running doesn't alleviate the pain, but it mentally alleviates the binding force and allows me to see beyond. And when physical exhaustion from exerting myself to a new extreme meets any other form of pain - I win. I have control, having utlitised the outlet I know best...
When I want it, I go and get it. It's simple. And now I lie here on a horizontal plane, unable to run. Curled up, with my knees in my chest, I fight this physical battle against myself. And I pray for these forms of affliction to disappear.
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