My Place

The cold winter air hits my face as I run. I just want to get away. Away from the pressure, the stress, the chaos of my life here. Everyone wants things for me that I have never wanted. They do not understand me here. I run as fast as I can. I only hear my heart beat racing in my ears. I tear down their streets and sidewalks into my place. Into my forest. I got lost here once, as a child. I fell in love with the mystique of the trees and the low slung fog that ambles around in the evening. I feel safe here. At peace. It is as though no one can find me here, in my place. No one knows of it. No one knows I come here. No one knows I love this place like a second home, that I feel so at ease here. This is not a place people around me know of, or would like to know of. They are stubborn. They are spoiled. They are only intrigued with things like wealth and appearance. This place, my place, is too lowly for them. I doubt they know it exists here, behind their glistening buildings and rush hour traffic. They have not the faintest idea of what beauty lies but a few hundred feet from their high heels and noses held higher. They don't understand my fascination with the beauty of simplicity. The beauty of nature. They don't see it, but that's okay. They don't really see me either, and when they can't see me, I can slip away. Here, to my place. My place, without them.