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Poetry | Self Discovery
Running From Myself — Or Am I Running Towards Something?
The answer was always in the direction I was too afraid to face. I realized I should be running towards something, not away.
There’s something about the rhythm of my feet hitting the ground,
The whisper of the woods around me, the quiet rebellion of running that feels like freedom. Yet, as I run, a distant question often lingers: am I running from something — or toward it?
I love running.
I jog in the woods — my favorite,
I can synesthetically see the breeze,
I can almost taste the songs of the birds in the air, and hear the green in the rustling leaves.
I run by the road, in the field, and I do marathons,
The fleeting traffic of humans and cars feels, both far but near,
A reminder of the world rushing by as I chase my own pace.
With every runner I pass comes a sense of victory that pushes me further, To the thrill of the medal at the end of the track.
I sprint in my head as well.