I’ll Keep Running

Is this what addiction feels like?

It’s been three days.

But my body hungers for it as though it’s been years.

I dig my bitten fingernails into my knees to stop it from its slight twitch. My teeth start clenching as I reflected on the adrenaline rush of just one more relapse. One more couldn’t hurt right? Just one and I’ll stop.

I promise.

Fuck, that’s what I always say. I know I’m not supposed to. I know it’s bad for me. My body’s grown weak from the constant abuse, but even the smallest memory of that euphoria gives me a seductive heavy breathing. I want it. I’m craving it with every breath I draw. I feel the sudden thirst.

It’s done. I can’t stop myself, yet I keep shaking my head in disproval. But I want that sweat and I want to scratch the incessant itch. I feel weak, but I tell myself its okay.

It’s okay…

Its just one more time and I’ll stop. I’ll recover before doing it again.

Run.

Run.

Run.

My heart starts beating with the bass of my headphones and I feel liberated though my delicate cough interrupts my pace. But I need to run. It’s my daily routine. Even if I’m sick, I’ll keep running.

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