There are words I want to scream. I want to climb onto the tallest building and stand on the rooftop and shout them at her. Maybe then my words will be heard. Maybe then they will be understood and she will finally realize that I understand her game. I understand it and I will not play it. You tell me I’m running from the inevitable. If that is true, then let me run. Let me run. Let me be a stupid hamster on a wheel, going in circles forever until I grow so tired that I give up. I will fight. I will not go down easily. I will go down eventually. I know that. But just because someone knows they will die, should they stop living? My words echo in my mind. Nothing else matters. I only want you to hear the things I say. You never will, though. You will always look at me with the self-righteous pity that mocks the hurt I feel. And because of that, I will never speak the words I hold in my mind. I will take them captive. You cannot have them. You cannot know them. You will never understand because I will never speak them to you.