Burning.

Every breath drew a burning sensation against her chest. She reveled on the impression because it gave her a chance to feel. Any emotion that she was able to feel at that moment she would relish it.

The soles of feet felt as if they were on fire. It was no surprise since the thirty minute run had turned into a two hour marathon of escape. She relished on the sensation of feeling her feet hit the pavement that surrounded this famous park. She wondered now why she had never done this before, of course the old her would have scoffed at the notion of running for fun.

Sure the boy she had once considered her one true love had made running his regime, it had never enticed her. The sweat, the heat and the disgusting sportswear used to make her cringe and turn her nose against the audacity of anyone wearing such clothes.

And yet here she was doing the exact same thing she used to despise and would wonder why anyone would put themselves through this.

She had never planned on doing this but lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, for which felt like the millionth time did not seem to satisfy her anymore.

Friends, family and ex-lovers had tried reaching her through her self-imposed bubble of seclusion. The grief that had sustained her seemed almost of reach and she was unable to reach it the way she was supposed to.

She had finally sat up and moved towards the shower that her body had missed. The water had seemed to cleanse her but it failed to reach her heart where all her pain, anguish and despair still lingered. Her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. She told herself that she had no right to grieve for something she had caused, she had been the protector, and her body was meant to be a safe haven for those she would bear. But she had failed.

As she stepped out of her shower she realized she had not brought in clothes to change into. She spied the same garbs she had been wearing for days if not weeks. Her hand reached for the clothes for it felt easier to slip into the same numbness that had been her sole provider for the pain that had filled her and oppressed this entire room of hers.

She let them drop and finally stepped over them to walk to her closet. She could not live in this room any longer; she had to move forward- she had to. Opening her closet doors, the color and brightness of the room made her shield her eyes, so accustomed to the darkness of her bedroom, the light illuminating from the closet seemed as bright as the sun.

Her hand moved alongside the skirts, blouses and beautiful custom made gowns that had once been her pride and joy. She felt hollow and unable to comprehend why she paid so much attention to material items that never gave back. Yes, the clothes had made her feel like the most beautiful women in the world. But they never hugged back, the name brand items never lasted more than a few months before she grew tired of them and discarded them as if they were garbage.

Could she really go back to who she was? To the vain person who 's tongue had made many men and women cower and who's impeccable last name had once been the subject of good fortunate, but now seemed riddled with criticism and jeers. She didn't know.