The Art of Escapism

Thump ka-thunk thump- the sound of bare feet rhymatically running on old wood planks sounds in the otherwise empty forest. The rushing wind that echoes in her ears tries in vain to wipe the tears from her face- salty paths that end in a drip off her chin.
The soles of her young feet cross the last of the splintered wooden bridge, still yet strong enough to ignore the dull slap of pain. Just a flash, a gray silhouette of a girl- the crystal-blue water with the faded leaves hardly notes her passing.
She's needed this for so long- sweet serenity from the city's endless roars and rumbles.
The rum-a-tum-tum of her fleet feet match the rumbling sound of drums, a nice change from the constant roar of the unresting city she had grown so used to. The city, with its grey walls- prison walls, always keeping you locked inside (she shivered, but she wouldn't have you know that.)
Colored leaves imitating the tones of the sun crunch in her wake as she imagines floating through the forest, leaving all without a trace. The path she had so often walked now barely shows and she lets memory lead the way.
She's been running for years, days, months now. Time doesn't matter anymore.
Her hair, black as night, trails out behind her- contrasting against the bright leaves that fell in her passing.
She's always had an effect like that- changing everything around her. Always an acknowledgement, always a tip of the hat for the girl with the hair of midnight.
She builds you up with a soft, quiet smile that seems to promise everything will be alright. A smile like that and you would believe anything for her sake.
But if she falls, all crumbles with her.
She's tired of supporting everything, tired of being the Atlas of a long lost cause.
A comforting, misty sort of rain eases through the leaves, dappling her pale arms with a slight chill. The forest seems to swallow her up, close in around her- a sanctuary or an asylum?
And now, she just wants to disappear. Get lost in it all.
She focuses on the crunching of the leaves, of the small protest they make before she tears them to shreds with her step. She wonders if he knows he did the same to her when he left.
The gnarled, wind-blown trunks of wood still stood strong, still bearing their colorful leaves of greeting. Through everything, they still reach for the sky.
He never cared in the first place, not about her. She was always just a floor to be walked on- a necessity, needless, never receiving care. She remembers shards of her own crumble away with his every careless little step.
Another unsympathetic pierce from painful memories, another destruction of another just because of his wants.
Maybe it's better that he's gone.
She wandered into her old hiding place, the small clearing that gave way to a meadow in what felt like the center of this forest, of nature, of peace. She hesitantly slowed, step by step, exploring the place she had once known. The leaves littered the green, wild grass like scattered shreds of time.
Without her, the world will still live on. At this revelation, she had first started running from the life she had grown.
She stood in the center of the clearing, then without a second thought she closed her eyes and fell backwards, landing in a soft bed of leaves that crunched happily with her use of them. A crinkled leaf brushed against her cheek as a few from above settled on her bare arms.
Now was her place to give in.
A swirling of leaves overhead, showing a blue but cloudy sky through the holes in the canopy. Sprinkling of tiny drops of mist mixing with her tears, making the pitter-pattering sound of shy rain on growing, natural things. A fragile, blooming flower of white that hides beneath the underbrush of fallen leaves. With a gentle caress on its soft petals, she thought-
Maybe..
There must be some death for life, after all.