My Infinite Race

I can't tell you why.

I don't know.

I only know that it hurts and that I am tired.

I miss real food and actual living.

I hate it more than you do.

I feel like an animal most days.

Hunted.

Running from it but barely staying a step ahead.

I watch it creep up on me as I hide in the brush on a dark and starless night...

Its footsteps paused to listen for my breathing.

Its nose open and searching for my scent.

It approaches and strains its eyes to find me in the dark...

It looks me deep in the eyes and does not see me, for it is blind.

It does not see my fear, strength, or love.

It does not see my children and loved ones and all that it will leave behind.

It simply hunts.

I look straight at it and hold my breath.

Sweat pours from my skin and the salt alerts it that I am possibly alive.

I do not allow the tears to fall.

I continue to hold my breath as it awaits my expected exhale.

My body shakes ever so slightly as my muscles fight to be free but are forced to stay still...

It moves away and starts a different path.

My exhale carries like an echo in the night.

It knows.

The hunt is back on and I run.

Panting.

Breathing.

Hard.

When will it stop?

When can I rest?

Frantic now.

I am running a jagged and aimless path.

Hoping that I will outrun it.

Hoping that I will not have to stop.

Hoping that for once I want the win more.

This is my infinite race.