Jazzmyne's Letters Were Never Meant To Be Read

Unpopular Opinion

Dear Unpopular Opinion,

I have an unpopular opinion. I think running is quite beguiling and unpopular opinions are overrated, not that anyone would care, rather, as if I'd care. Generally, the purpose of this whole letter writing thing is to cater to my own feelings of self-importance and superiority, which is why I'll be talking about running.

There's no feeling in this world that I would exchange with the tremble, the ache of knees and limbs, of foot and tendons, of power surging through every thundering stomp of my feet. It is a resonating force haughtily leaving marks, indents on the supple earth crowding the vast green field.

Muscles straining, the wind often defies the course of my body. My vision blurs in and out of focus for every trickling sweat, every loud pounding of my heart heard through the piercing ringing of my ears, driving me further into a form of unconsciousness. An unconsciousness where I am moving lithely while I am also away, cut off, splintered from the vivid consciousness of moving life surrounding me–the cheering of friends, the hollering from the bleachers, the laughter, the chatter. Away from all the rumbling cacophony of voices. Away from the grim voice of that stupid fuckface doctor, the feeble cries of my mother, the red-rimmed eyes of my father, the metallic smell of the chemicals, the incessant, infernal beeping, god, fuck! There was so much fucking beeping. The sound seemed to have drilled a hole in my head. It's so hard to shake it off, but I needed to get it, all of it, whatever the fuck it is, away.

My breath rasps and my lungs burn but I kept pushing and pushing. The strip of the finish line glares at me. Taunting me. Still, I sprint, speeding ever forward, and I do not stop. I never do, because I am a runner. I have no need to stop for anyone. Not anymore.

Love,

Jazzmyne