Running

On a familiar street, filled with onlookers, I am running. I have no destination, no goal to achieve. I’m running from everything. I’m running from my fear. I’m running from my pain. I’m running from my friends. I can’t help myself.
Everyone’s staring, as if they know my secrets, pointing and mocking me. I hear them, but I can’t stop them. I can’t defend myself. I am weak. I force every step as my legs are growing tired from the running, but I can’t let them catch me.
A shadow blocks my sun, and I’m left in the dark. There is no light for me to see where I’m going. I feel like I’m suffocating as I try to continue running. My world is black, and I can’t run any longer.
My face grows hot, and my legs give out. I tumble to the ground, clutching my chest, the home of my racing heart. My warm tears sting my face as they fall. My sobs resonate through the street, illustrating my pain.
I hear their laughter. I hear their snickers. They pretend they know me. They pretend to care. Every cruel word someone has said to me echoes off every crevice in my mind. I can’t stop it. It won’t go away. My pain is swallowing me. I’m not running anymore.