Crispy fresh air running through my hair, caressing my skin, the smell of a new day awakening, the sound of my shoes on the gravel as I sprint along the road.. I wake as the day and it’s diurnal creatures begin their daily task.  Breathing heavier, harder, pushing my muscles to an extreme, running to the beat of a song, it pushes me even further, the adrenalin and the exhilaration with every stride. A pump that pushes my every stride with new oxygenated blood.. My surroundings blurred as I pass them by.. “More speed, more speed, more speed, push your self, push your limit”. That was always my motto, my mantra.. Everything would disappear, my worries, my stress, my pounds. Now, three months of being unable to run. I sit, and look at my self in the mirror, without recognizing who stares back… A chubby thick, shapeless girl.That’s the image I have of myself, where ever I go (and that is why I avoid mirrors or anything that reflects back that lost girl)…
The voice starts again, a high shrill voice, she keeps telling me how much I have gained, how horrible I look, and once again, I detest myself.   How did she come back?
All memories of people’s taunting come back, and I can’t take it anymore. I don’t want to see anyone, I seek no company but my own, and that shrill voice…
Like a bird behind bars, kept from flying, my soul yearns to go out and run, escape from myself, be able to sit through a meal, enjoy a chocolate, without thinking of my weight.. Without feeling judged…
I miss running…


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