Running

My eyes are dry and red.
Anxiety haunts my head.
I haven't gotten enough sleep
Since who knows when,
And my mind is blank of creativity and ambition.

I'm so sick of pretending to be O.K.,
But I can't let my thoughts go,
Or else it'll turn twisted,
Warped and damning.

This is not who I am,
I promise,
I hope God knows that;
I wish I knew that.

What's wrong with me?
I want to sleep,
But the black against my eyes
Refuses to rest.
It moves and changes into nightmares;
I won't give in.

I can control my thoughts.
I can control my thoughts. 
I can control my thoughts.
I can control my thoughts.

But I'm worried;
One wrong turn
And I'll see something I don't want to.
I'll think something I don't need to imagine,
And sometimes I want to force myself
To Shut Down, Close All Apps, Programs, and Delete All.

You don't know what this feels like,
Watching videos until four a.m.
Because you refuse to allow anything else in,
Because you refuse your mind to digest,
Or especially hunger,
For anything at all-
Except blackness.

But this is not who you are.
You're not the girl
That has to call someone in the middle of the night,
Just to be sure your insanity is, in fact,
A lie.

You're not the one to hold
Onto a safety blanket so long,
The heat making you sick
As the sweat drips down your neck
And your stomach churns.

I have to have faith,
They say,
That everything will be okay;
But I like to worry.
I don't know how else to function.

I don't know how I'd handle
Rest after days and weeks
Of my phone blinding my eyes,
Numbing my mind,
Force feeding it with thoughts
That it could care less about.

You used to be the one who created colors,
Watching it fly,
Feeling free,
But I am the one who stares at the sky,
Awaiting liberation.

I'm too worried of the Present,
Forcing myself not to think,
I hardly notice even the beauty of the rainbow,
Each color in its own majestic splendor.

I feel the weight like a rock,
holding me down,
But I wonder how I will survive without this rock.
What if when I'm finally released
There is no creativity left?

I cannot ask,
Because I know how badly I want answers.
I must pretend as if everything is O.K.,
Keeping myself busy,
I must not let my mind go,
Because if I do,
The dam I built up
Will release a flood of questions
I am too paralyzed to care for.

In response I will have to run,
Run from the flood of questions,
Running with broken legs,
With the wind in my hair,
Tears in my eyes,
Pain in my heart,
I will keep going to avoid the tsunami.

That is why I worry,
Because I am a runner,
I do not have time to stop,
Or relax,
Or rely on others.

I force my limbs to stay broken,
My tissue to remain torn,
My body to remain sore,
My heart to remain forever bleeding.

You remind yourself
You are fine.
You will continue,
You must not give up.

Running has made you stronger
And has forced you to endure pain,
So you may continue regardless.
But how can you continue?
When you know Running Away
Is in reality Running To.

You're Running To destruction.
But you only see this path
And you never stop.
You sprint when you limp,
And you continue when you should stop.

Your Running Away
Is Running To,
And your brokenness
Is your identity.

A Warning: You may not remain ignorant for long,
The destination always smacks a person in the face
Before they are ready.
If the Run is not enjoyed
The End will be regretted.