Runner

I’m a runner. It’s what I do. I run away from pain. I run away from happiness. I run away from hate, sadness, uncertainty…love. And all those other things that seem out of my control. In truth, I think the only way that I DON'T run is the healthy way.

You see, I'm a professional. I’ve been running for a long time, for as long as I can remember, really. Running through avoidance, through only wanting and loving what I can’t have. What can’t be. Because what can’t be…is safe. It can’t hurt any more that I allow it to. And even though sometimes that hurts a lot….at least it’s me hurting myself. And for some reason, that’s alright with me. But to let others hurt me? To let others CLOSE enough to hurt me?

That is something I flee from.

So imagine my surprise when I didn’t walk away from you. Imagine my surprise when I didn’t hide. When I wanted to reach out and hold our hand….when I tried so hard to cling to your side instead of run…when I couldn’t keep you at a distance. When what I felt for you became real and I saw you as attainable.

And then….imagine my surprise when you were the one who ran. You ran from me. And all the running from emotions and feelings and humanity that I thought I had become so skilled at? Oh, you put me to shame. You are the master. You officially outran the runner.

You left me behind to choke on the dust. And I deserve it.