short ramblings of a mentally unstable fire sign✨

unknown

The only sounds to be heard were those of hard footfalls on the gravel road and the panting of a chest on fire. Thin mountain air makes it hard enough to draw proper breaths as it is, but she'd been running for what felt like hours and struggling to pull the oxygen from the world around her.
She wouldn't stop though. There was nothing to stop for. The early morning air, thick with fog from the night which was only a handful of hours ago now, offered her the hope for a clear head. So she ran.
She ran past clusters of evergreen trees as they loomed over her head on either side of her, offering an inexplicable sense of security. She ran past fences and fields where the occasional sheep or cow would come into view, not really catching her attention though.
There was no destination. Having a destination would imply that she'd thought about it first; she hadn't. Each trek she'd embarked on in life had a set destination. Every step planned elaborately in advance, leaving nothing unexpected to be desired. Finally she'd had enough. So she ran.
The burning in her lungs only made her pick her feet up and slam them back into the gravely earth harder, only made her run faster. The aching in her legs and thighs only made her itch to keep pushing forward. At some point she even began to think that she would run so hard the her feet would fuse with the ground and she'd be stuck there forever. But still, she ran harder.
When tears began to sting behind her eyes she knew she should stop, she knew she should rest. But along with the realization that she didn't recognize where she was, came the sensation of freedom; something she hadn't felt in far too long. She wouldn't stop running, feeling this sensation, until she physically couldn't run any longer. She kept running.
She was so lost in her own head that she forgot to moniter where her aching feet fell. Her speed, in any other case, would have been impressive. In this case, however, it only appeared to hinder her stability.
With a slightly foggy world around her and a highly overcast mind, she lost her footing. Her right foot falling out of sync with her left sent her tumbling to the gravel below him. Her previous speed now evident in the wounds on her flesh.
Blood begins to darken her once-light-colored jeans and fresh rips had surfaced on her knees- jeans and skin alike. Bits of gravel and dirt collected in the wounds, being coated in a fresh layer of red. Sucking in a sharp breath of air, she assesses the damage to her palms. Larger abrasions have formed where she attempted to break her fall, to no avail. Like the knees, bits of gravel were lodged under the skin of her hands, but she decided not to pay them any mind.
Wincing slightly in pain, she stood up and began to walk in the very same direction she'd been running. Her pace slow and stead, adjusting her now-wounded knees to the feeling of bending again, she began to quicken her steps once more.
There's no doubt that some of the scrapes and cuts may need stitches and joints may have even been sprained on landing; she didn't care. She was running again.
She'd run until she couldn't any longer. She'd stop only when forced to. She'd run and run and run until she felt that she had nothing left to run from. Even though she hadn't the slightest clue what she was running to.