Run

“Run.”

You try to motivate yourself as you fight against fatigue for every breath. Pain pierces your lungs with each sharp inhale: in through the nose, and out the mouth. You feel your calves pulsate, extending and contracting as you slowly get hypnotized by the rhythmic sound of your shoes scraping on the gravel while the sun beats down, burning your skin. You would run at night, if only you had the time.

 

“Run.”

Your heart beats faster and faster, trying to pump the blood to your lungs and limbs. It beats through the fat that’s likely accumulated around it from all the food you’ve ever eaten: the good and the bad. Your lungs fight through the smoke you occasionally expose it to. Your father smoked too, more frequently…but everyone starts somewhere.

“Run.”

You run to stay healthy, maintain your fitness, an attempt to counteract the weekends of beer and greasy tacos that you refuse to skip out on because you can’t take these opportunities with friends for granted again. You run from the aging process: the inevitable physical decline that you hope to postpone till it corners and consumes you. You run from a family history of high cholesterol and diabetes. You run from what you believe is your destiny.

“Run.”

You run from responsibility: a trait you’ve learned to do so well. Your father’s sick and since starting chemo is looking the part, so you run faster. You run away to the company of friends and hopefully your mother won’t ask you to stay in and watch him because you don’t want to be around him when he’s like this. Why?

 

For More Reference: Explainer Video Studio

%d bloggers like this: