Running.

I woke up this morning and ran.
Ran from my oppressors.
From my beliefs.
My obligations.
I tried to escape the things I was entitled to do, think, and feel...
But life quickly caught up.
Blaring into my dark cocoon, it rang to awaken me.
To bring me back into "reality".
Normality.
Soon, I was me again.
The same person I'd been and claimed to be.
And I became crippled beneath the weight of life.
A flower before the stampede.
What is it that drives me?
Promotes my need to escape?
To run?
Perhaps it is need.
Desire.
Or maybe, just maybe.
It is fate.

I live in a still life; a moment captured in a frame of time. Who I am means nothing to those looking in, because they will never know me. As the years move along, I don't ever alter. I never change. What changes are the perceptions of those around me. They peer through the glass into me, casting stones and making judgments.

But I will hold true to what I believe, regardless of what people see, because life isn't more than a game of Ring-Around-The-Rosie. We dance in circles avoiding death, but we know we will die.
Life isn't a quest for death though.
But one for truth.
Because life is nothing without truth.
Without understanding.
And without the equanimity of a serene night, laced with dew and cool breezes.
A night that, no matter who we may be, sends us into our deepest memories and thoughts, and encourages us to look and move forward.

But no one hears these words through thick canvas and oil, and no one looks for truth in a recluse they can never understand.
And that is my motive.
That is why.
Why I'm afraid.
And so I must run.