Sick and Tired

Some of the best speeches are bluffs.

Eyes shut, as one coming upon a great, but not entirely happy, truth. "If I leave, now, I'm going to survive. I'm going to have a long, happy life. I'm going to live to a nice old age. I'm going to smile at my grandchildren, and have those nice little wrinkles at the corners of my eyes that happy people get when they've been happy for a good, long time. I'm going to look at my kids, and their kids, the way my parents and their parents looked at me." Eyes open. "So I should leave. I should take off running, right now, and not look back for a second. The only reason I shouldn't be sprinting, right now, is to save energy, so I can run longer.

"Assuming I am as weak as you think I am, I should be doing that. Assuming I'm as stupid as you think I am, I shouldn't even have though about how I shouldn't sprint. Assuming I'm as afraid, lost, little, weak, helpless, useless."

The space of a breath passed.

"Assuming, assuming, assuming. Oh, I absolutely love that word. Because it means I can be so many things at once. I can be a brat, and a hero, and the smartest person in the room, and that kid no one should care about, and I don't even have to lie. In fact, I'm more likely to find people believing the truth if I don't lie. If I insist I'm not this, insist I'm not that, then I find people refusing to believe me. Because of course I'd say that. I'm too modest. I'm saving my own skin. I'm trying to puff myself up, little thing in front of the big guy.

"And then,"--smile--"oh, and I can see it now. That understanding. That I was telling the truth. Every single time. And that's the lovely bit. I have never lied, even by omission. I told you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but.

"So, run. Because I'm sick of running, and perhaps I'm too sick to chase. Just...run."

Some of the best speeches are bluffs. The poor thing could barely stand, much less run. Much less fight. But the strength to stand and the will to speak, only speak...that can spin the world off its axis, and right back on again.

Trope of note: Tired Of Running