I ran down the small street in my small neighborhood, except it didn't feel like running. It felt like flying. The way the morning breeze seemed to conform to my body, making me feel weightless. It couldn't feel my feet hitting the pavement either.
I wished I could do this all day. Leaving the world behind me felt like going to paradise, but in ten minutes my parents will wake up and I'll have to go home and start my day like any other person.
Maybe, that's why I loved running so much, it made me feel special. Like I was better than everybody else. Was that even possible? Could something so simple make you feel powerful?
Maybe it's just the feeling everyone gets when they do something they love...because I wasn't special beyond any means. I grew up with a normal family and had a good amount of friends. I got good enough grades, but I wasn't a shoe-in for Harvard. I didn't have any artistic talent and I couldn't sing.I was probably the best definition of All-American Girl out there.

I headed up the small hill that led to our house, feeling my power slowly dying. My pace becoming slower. I was again at balance with the rest of the world.
So, as I went inside my house, I looked back and told myself, "Until tomorrow."