An hour ago, this was a fabulous idea.
It’s ironic, isn’t it? That little thing about how when
everything falls apart you find out who you really are. I don’t know if you
really find out who you are. Maybe you just find out a little bit more about
what you already had a sneaking suspicion to be true, and a little bit more
about what you pretended wasn’t true.
A quick trail run in between work and home. Easy peasy,
lemon squeezy.
Here’s what I know about me:
I am tiny, but stubborn. Being a smart girl has always felt
like an Achilles heel. I take on far too much and accomplish far too little of
what I really want to do. I aim to please and it hurts me deeply when I don’t.
I remember dates and little moments that others don’t. I want to run and play
but responsibility gets in my way. I am risk averse, but I wish I took more of
them. And right now?
I’m hoping that none of the dark spots around me make any
sudden movements.
For the past 30 minutes … I think … I have been running in
circles in the dark. Technically, I’ve been running in long, winding, rocky and
cactus adorned washes in the dark. Up hills. Down hills. Around corners. In
between hills.
I think it’s been 30 minutes because I don’t actually know
for sure. Because my phone is safely tucked away in my car. And I’m not really
sure where the car is. Or how to get back to it.
I only know that I am surrounded by cacti lying limp by the
trail like large, flaccid penises like some garish Adventure in Wonderland and somewhere
out there in the dark are tarantulas, rattlesnakes, bobcats, coyotes and other
nefarious creatures I do not want to meet. And that this trail … and the one
before that … and the one before that … were much more appealing yesterday.
When I knew what the hell was in front of me.
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