I run away from my life. Literally. Yesterday I couldn't stand the pictures anymore. I tied up my running shoes and sprinted out the door. They were staring down at me and I realized that half of the faces, I didn't recognize. My mother. I'm 16 now. I was 7 when she died. And I don't even remember her. So I run away. Past all of the houses and the trees. I purposely run in the opposite direction of where people I know are. If someone asks me what's wrong, I smile...then run away. I'm sick of doing it, but I can't talk to anyone I know.
People treat me different once I tell them. Most just think that I live with my dad and my parents are divorced. But once I tell someone, they look at me in a different way. So I tell no one. I tell no one how I feel and I run away. Down the street, turn right. Down that street onto the lake path. No one takes this lake. It's deserted and quiet and rough. I love it. Halfway around, dodging trees and rabbits, is my favorite place. It's a mound of rolling hills up to the valley of a golf course. All around is a swamp of cattails. It's like Lion King and that is one thing I remember. She and I would watch Lion King.
I miss her more than is possible to express. And so I run.
Leaving my life in ruins along the way.
Leaving the ones I love because I cannot bear to talk.
Leaving behind my soul in pieces dropped from my sneakers as they pound the meaty earth.
I leave behind my stories.
I leave behind my love.
But I leave because of the pictures.
They make me realize that I run for reasons even I do not know.