Someone once told me that the only way to get over my problems was to run right through them, like they were nothing more than the morning mist that disappeared when the sun came out.
And it sounded so drastically different than the other answers I was used to so I took off in a matter of seconds. And it worked! I ran through them all. Well, head-butted them in the gut is more like it. And it felt exhilarating to battle with the burden that was pressed upon my shoulders by fingers that were too insignificant to even matter.
But after my problems fell apart, one segment after the other, I faced a bigger one. I could not hit the brakes. My energy levels did not drop and neither did my heartbeat. I kept running and running even when my feet blistered and bled. I continued to push aside other problems that arose but I could never bring myself to halt after. I could not slow down and stroll through my problemless life.
And that is how I began to crumble. I tackled them all to the ground but everytime I got to my feet, I was worse off than before.
And I am still running. Running and breathing through the Asthma. Because I think somewhere along the path that I sprinted through, I realized that maybe my life would be easier if I could outrun my problems. But as irony would have it, I only managed to bring myself to them; breathless, quicker than I was expected and catching them by surprise.
And even after I was proved wrong, I couldn’t stop. And that’s the silly thing about people, I guess. We cannot give up even on the silliest of hopes, can we?
And so, I shall resume my head-butting.