I Ran
"I want to run."
"Really?"
Yes. So, I ran. The field was empty with nothing but life. Trees danced with the wind to a melody unheard. The hill looked like the furry back of one fantastical woodland creature. I was the lice, revelling in its lush.
I ran. And I felt alive! I looked like an idiot. But, I didn't care. Who is to care when nature is with you? I wanted to sing and open my own sound of music. This was the edge I needed, this act of impulse, to flirt precariously between one's very feeling and the power of destiny. I ran not to a place, a noun, but to escape, a verb, to do.
"[...]even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where [or how] we go from there."*
I glanced back and saw my mum watch and saunter slowly towards me, her thoughts distant. I guess I ran for her, too.
*Chbosky, Stephen. The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Great Britain, UK: Pocket Books, 1999, 228.
*Chbosky, Stephen. The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Great Britain, UK: Pocket Books, 1999, 228.