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The wind blows in my face, it's hard cruel bite stinging as the diamonds trickle down my face, ever falling, tumbling and rolling, gushing and crashing. Always. My legs ache with running and my muscles being to loosen as slowly my eyes droop. But no! I must keep going. Fear driving me onwards, or is it hope, grief? Love? But still I go and although all my body keeps going, pulsing with energy, my mind wanders from that cold gaping abyss where I run, to somewhere soft and warm and kind. Somewhere where there is friends, a loving family, people that care for you and look out for you, people that love. Everything I've never had, never felt, never been. And no borders. No hard, cruel, pointless boundaries fencing me in, fencing them out, fencing out anything I could become attached to, so I'm trapped, never to play and laugh. Never to live. But then - I crossed The Border

I sat at the gate, watching, trapped inside my own head, unable to escape, to run free and wild, playing and singing and laughing and dancing like all the other children I could see from my side of The Border. Every day, all day, every night, all night forever and ever they played and I sat and watched. Passive. How I craved to join them but never would I dare to cross the border, and join them. Until that day. The day I fought back and rebelled, the day I decided to live. It wasn't hard, I just had to think and with all my might, with everything I had and all I ever had, all that ever will be ' love. A huge surge of power, energy stronger than anything I'd ever felt or seen, ran through my body, tingling every cell, rushing through every particle of me and I was free. But the children saw me and ran. Running from me. Because they knew. They knew that I could not love, could not care for them, what would I know about caring and love? And I had to run, run away from that foul place, because HE was coming. He knew I'd escaped and at once I pinged, running and running, adrenalin racing through my body in a way I'd never known.
And here I am. Still running, not knowing where or why, how to get there or what will be there when I do. When I do.
But even if I never get there, if I run forever more, and I grow old and weak, and still running, it will be better. Better than being in there. Inside those boundaries, the other side of the border. Because anything is better than that. I close my eyes and accelerate.

As I run I think, think back to when I was in that terrible place and I watched those children playing outside. They were so happy. They never had toys or objects to play with. They used themselves and each other. They ran and danced and leaped. They sometimes ran further away so I could barely see them but other times they would be so close I would have been able to reach out and touch them. If it wasn't for The Border.
But I could always hear them. They were always making some noise and where ever they were I could always here them. Laughter, song, shouts, whispers, secrets, music. It was if they were teasing me because I couldn't be with them, couldn't touch them or love them or care for them.
I hated that foul place. How I wished that I could leave. I was trapped inside my own head, constantly battling with Him. With myself and my life. There was no time in that retched place. No night and day. And they never stopped. They were always doing something. Playing or singing or laughing or talking or maybe they were just lying together enjoying the sound of their own breathing, their own hearts pounding against their chest. Not like me. I had no heart to beat and feel. No lungs to heave and become exhausted. I could not eat or drink or sleep. I had no brain, no thoughts, no memories, no feelings. I was nothing. A mist, a cloud, a cloak, a veil drifting with no meaning. Because of The Border. But now I am. I can hear my heart beating inside me. Feel my lungs heaving. I'm hungry and thirsty and tired. Ideas rush through my brain, words I never knew could be, people I never knew. But I do know these people, these words. From long, long ago' When I was myself. It's coming back. I'm coming back. Slowly. Oh so slowly. But I'm coming. I'm coming back home. And this is only the start of the journey. The long, winding journey home.