Why Is It Important To Go Outside?

It’s easy to wake up in the mornings, but more than difficult to get up nowadays. For the past few weeks I have achieved little more than four hours sleep every night, despite being incredibly tired and constantly craving sleep. Being unable to sleep, however, made no difference to what I did with my days. Granted, they were longer than I might hope, but that was still no reason to venture outside.
Outside is where you get hurt, or followed, or laughed at. Outside is terrifying. The only reason I go outside now is to buy food, or when I determine that fresh air is necessary.
I used to go out all the time; why wouldn’t I? Outside is beautiful. But then I noticed them, following me, watching me, everywhere I went. So I don’t go out anymore, …show more content…
Of course, I could order it on the internet or maybe just phone for a pizza, but I think it’s about time I ate some proper food. However, before leaving the apartment, some precautions must be taken. I pick out the heaviest and largest jacket from my wardrobe and carefully check that I have everything I need in the pockets.
After completing this check a number of times, I make my way towards the door, check all six of the locks are secure and then step outside. I then thrust my hands in my pockets and set off towards the corner shop at the end of the street, all the while taking care not to look behind me, and keep a firm grip on the penknife nestled in my pocket.
I can hear them behind me, mumbling and whispering as they follow me, but I can’t look behind, I can’t ever look at them. I quicken my pace and squeeze tighter on the handle of the knife. They’re talking to each other now, their voices – if they can be called that – raised more to an inhuman screech than a whisper. I can almost tell that what they’re saying is about me, even though I don’t understand the words. But I know what they say can be nothing good, and so, I quicken my pace once more, almost to a run this time. They increase their speed to match mine, and then continue to get faster, I begin to run, tear my hands out of my pockets, with my hand still tightly wrapped around the knife and sprint towards the entrance to the …show more content…
The sky was dark with dust and the air thick with fear, bullets were flying in all directions, but I was alone. I could hear my friends calling out to me, over and over again, screaming in pain. I didn’t know what was happening, but I was running, faster than I had ever run before. I knew I should help my friends. I knew I had to help my friends. But my body wouldn’t allow me to turn back, I was too afraid of death, too afraid of pain. The hail of bullets was focused on the spot where the truck hit a mine, but this did not stop a few stray bullets flying past my head. Every time they did so, I ran faster, and my friends’ voices became quieter and further away.
Suddenly, the sound of gunfire stopped, and one last plea for help came from the flaming truck, and then the sound stopped. Everything was silent as I dropped to my knees, burying my head in my hands. My friends were gone. I had left them with lost limbs and shattered bones, alone in a burning truck, because I was afraid.
I could see my friends again now, their faces as bruised and bloodied as they had been the last time I saw them. They were the memory of my failure to help them. The memory I had been running from since I left the war. But memories can’t be run from forever, and nor can guilt: it’s time for the guilt to take over. It’s time for me to go and join my friends. So they do the work for me, I allow them to take control of the