Letters to the Moon (pt. 4) - what once was
It’s his birthday. Do you remember? How we used to run around under the sweltering sun, awkwardly tripping over our own feet within the chase. We would watch the dirt under our fingernails build and build until we could no longer tell what the original color was supposed to be. Us three, we were always running. No one could understand why we would run for fun and games. But to us, there was no fun and games. Just running.
Now it’s just me. Running towards what we all thought we could once be, yet unsure of if I can ever cross the finish line in time. It’s been four years and now I’m starting to think that all this running was for nothing. When you two were here, we would push each other to our limits. Now it’s just me, and I’m losing my purpose.
Why do I run? What am I running to? Is it you guys? Because if it is, then I think I can find some way to uphold this pursuit no matter the distance. Happy birthday, let’s run when we meet again, yeah? We can play on those old creaky swings at the park and pretend the floor is lava once more. We can race on the dirt track and pretend the dust is smoke. We can play wall-ball and hide-and-seek and tag and all those childish games until we are content once more. We can, we can, we can’t. I’m so tired of running and I just wish you guys would run back to me.













