[freedom.]
Oh, how can I resist your constant probing? Persistently teasing and laughing at my way of life. A bully one could call you. Though I don't. You never fail to confuse me just as much as you exceed me. Showing a little bit of yourself each day, though never the whole package.
Race with me. Become my truest friend and my worst foe. You cross the finish line but always go back to start. Why? Why do you want to go back to that dreaded stage of 'beginning'? Is it because you're free? Free. I'd like to know that feeling. Being able to ride the wind, hair flowing like an endless river. In a way, I'm like those strands of hair. Always behind you and struggling to catch up. Never, ever able to compete with your speed. Is that why you start again? To give me a second chance?
I envy you, Freedom. Your ability to love, and to laugh, and to play. But mostly, your ability to breathe. While I sit here hurting; suffocating, you breathe. Summer is your haven; winter is mine. Sunlight is your savior, snow is mine. I'm tight, you're loose. I'm closed, you're open. I'm trapped, and you're free.
YOU ARE READING
Still Sane
Poetry"... But that's okay, because despite all of this, I am still sane."
