When I close my eyes I see a man running. I know that he is I, but also that I am not truly him. He is what I wish I was, a man running through the thunderous onslaught of a storm… I want to run, and laugh as the exhilaration of it fills me with life. I want to feel the static crawl across my skin, with that deadly promise of lightning. But why? Why am I unable to see anything else?
I know where I am running. There is a door manifested by my spirit, a door locked from the other side. I run through the thunder and the rain, seeking to bring with me all that is primal and ram into this door with all that I am. I am desperate to reclaim the parts of me that I imprisoned behind it.
Sometimes the door becomes a stag. I have dreamt of it before, running armed with spear and fire. I can feel the hunt in my blood whenever I run. Perhaps that is why I am addicted to it, to life.
So find me the eternal forest and turn me loose… among the wolves.