"Light as a spring "(Kathy Eimeis)
My heart beats fast and hard against the ribs. I feel like a drop of sweat running from my forehead, left cheek and chin will just hang on, before he finally dropped on my T-shirt. I'm running. I do not run, I jog not, I'm running. You have to run. Run as fast as you can so quickly that the one Sense, has almost fly away. But I'm sure not light enough yet, I know. I still have a lot of running to be easy enough.
This is my big goal: to be light as a feather. Then I could ascend to heaven, let me drive the wind, and if I had no desire to fly, I would rest on a cloud, far away from everything. It has a nice feel to be so light that the air with one hand, to be so easy that even the thought of it quite easy to fly and are and you can feel free. During the race, my thoughts are sometimes even slightly. I just concentrate on my panting breath on my throbbing Heart and the heat is spreading in my body and pushed all thoughts. Then I feel good.
But that does not always work. Today it does not work. I'm trying to think of something beautiful, something that distracts me from my thoughts, they make me so hard. I think of water. Water is beautiful. You can go with the flow and think of it that you fly. You feel in the water now easily because the water carries a. Moreover, purified water, not only outside but inside too. It has a large force with which it washes away the thoughts, just like that. And then you're clean. I like the feeling when water plays around my body and thereby gurgling sounds are of themselves. You feel so safe and secure. But right now I'm running, and that's not nice, especially when you know that you are too heavy.
It must be hard, if you want something, I know, and that's why I'm running on, even if it's not pretty. My feet touching the ground very briefly, this is a good sign, I know I'm fast. Fast, but still too slow. And above all too heavy. I feel like a stranger in my own body. I will no longer be myself, I do not want to constantly have to think about who I am and how I should be. How
so often, the digital display of our balance shifts from my thoughts, in my thoughts and, above all that is in me. The power of the ad is too strong, I'm not against them. Relentlessly it forms with red numbers numbers, numbers that are much too big and almost as powerful as the scale. But I'm mighty, and I can fight. And I will. I will fight until I'm light as a feather and play with the butterflies and it can fly them. I press my teeth so hard on his lower lip, that they burst and I can feel the warm blood when I take the tongue over the place. I clench my hands into fists so tight that my fingernails into the inner surfaces of my hands drill and bruises left.
And I am running. That is the struggle, and he is hard, but you have to fight, or do not gain anything. The father always says. You get nothing for free, you have to do do something, you have to fight on, or you will never achieve what. So I fight. Not the way he wants, I know, but the way I want.
As spring must not fight it. As a spring must-meet you no expectations, as the spring bear you do not have the disappointed faces, when, once again something is not the way it should be. I can not wait to finally have a spring to be floating away and. I'm so sure. Then finally everything is good. Then I can finally be myself, then I need to adjust not last. If I am a feather.
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