Galvanized

My brain is about to implode from a frenetic blend of boredom and manic energy.

I want to run and jump and scream and shout as I rush down dark streets in the night. I want to be in a pack, a gang of free children, unstoppable and ever-moving. I want to find out how many fences can be jumped, how many roads can be ran, how many holes crawled through in one night. I want to be free and wild and open.
This house is a cage, its bars made of warmth and comfort and heavy rules. I want to be uncomfortable, I want to be lawless and cracked open. I want to break rules, not because they are rules but because they are barriers. I want to revel in the cold, frosty air as I shudder, more from excitement than anything else.
I want to watch as the world burns to the ground behind closed suburban doors while I sprint past, hurtling along to some unspecified destination. I want to whoop and cheer and cackle and call.
The world is a big, dangerous playground and I want to get hurt, to get dirty, down, down, down to the Earth. I want to scrape knees and tear jeans. I want to crawl through the mud, the rusty pipes.

I want to run, swiftly, without cause, purpose or destination.