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I want to run away and never come back again.
I want to disappear, dig deep into the mud and curl up like an African mummy, preserve my body when it is still youthful. I want to run wild in the forests crying, to lose my breath to the wind and never get it back, to follow someone like a loyal dog and never stray from their side. I want to go home again, even the homes I have known are all destroyed by now, both metaphorically and physically. I want to take back everything thats rightly mine by blood, from the wind in the trees, to the dandelions in the grass, whether it's by force or by pleading. My forefathers knees are still bruised from the times they spent pleading to get everything back, knees stained with dirt and blood.
I want to take a gun and blow my brains out all over the nice gardens in the back of the manor, I want to ruin everything that isn't theirs, the trees are mine, the dirt is mine, the grass is mine. Everything should be mine, including that house. God, it's such an eyesore. Each morning when I wake up and behold it with my own two eyes, I think about what my father would say. I told Braeden what he said once, and he got real quiet.
Whomever came up with the idea of owning land should be shot. I should shoot them. I'd tie them up and listen to them beg, then mercifully let them go, only to catch up to them like a wolf and break my promise. I want them to be fearful of me, instead of the other way around.
I want the luxury to be able to break a promise.
These days I am getting violent. Not towards others but towards myself. I run, run so fast I think I can outrun the wind now. It carries me away, I am lost whenever I run and I can only feel my feet being cut up and my blood spilling onto the land thats rightfully mine. Maybe if it tastes my bare flesh it will swallow everything up and I can be king for once. I want to be king, I want to have control, power. I want to be able to dictate people like Braeden can, even with a simple flick of the wrist and such.
Jealous. I am jealous and it hurts. It hurts so bad, it eats me up at night until I can only run. I am faster than everyone else. I outrun all of them, and my blood spills so the ground knows that it is I who runs so fast. I run so fast that Leandra can't even catch up to me, I laugh whenever she falls. My brother used to be the fastest one, but my brother is dead now, so it is up to me to be the fastest one.
Nobody can take that away from me. Nobody, the blisters on my feet and ankles prove that.