I think I need a revolution.
Everybody hates running.
I want to live in a little apartment in New York, overlooking a cobblestone street. And when it rains I want to sit by the window with a cup of sweet, hot tea, and watch the glow of the streetlights paint those stones and glance off the bricks of all the walls, and shimmer in the drops. I want to see neon streaks along the cars that slip by, sleek. I want a cat on my lap. I want somebody's warm arms around me, and a soft husky feminine voice asking me why don't I come back to bed, honey? I want to linger for a second, soak up the beauty of my world, because I finally can, because I can finally afford to linger alone somewhere instead of constantly fleeing thoughts and memories that bite like flung razors at my back. I want to pause and admire my entire existence, unhindered by melancholy, because finally my life is not unendurable. I want that chance, for that night. For that moment in the quiet hours of the morning, sitting apart from the world, warm and happy and finally safe, looking at its exquisite presence.
But to get that chance, I must keep running. If I stop, if I let it get me, I will never see that day. And that is why I fill my life with distractions and flee my deepest thoughts when they come upon me. It's why the journals stopped for now, and why I hardly draw anymore, and why I am extremely careful which songs make it to my ears. I'm in a race. And if I win, I will win my safety, my security, my life. But if I lose... I lose even more than that. I lose every moment I spent hoping for any of those things. I have to keep
running.