I stopped writing because I’m bored by what I say.
Today was beautiful.
The snow fell everywhere and no one was out… I was alone. The city felt like it was on mute.
My life feels on mute.
I still have my run. I remind myself to feel proud.
Everything is silent and quiet and steady… and I’m in it… all alone.
I know why I keep going out there… but I’m not sure how I haven’t quit yet. I don’t recognize the part of myself that pushes me out the door… But I know that it’s the part of me that I like the best.
Sometimes I think about how I knew everything when I was little. Why can’t I go back there?
This run might be my only proof that I’m still in there.. So I’m hanging on to it.
…and I insist on believing in magic. The kind of magic that leaves small minded people feeling uncomfortable.
…and I’m well aware that In the end it will either save me or wreck me.
Today was beautiful… Like a picture I couldn’t touch
…and It was cold and white … and I know this can’t actually be true but I could hear the snow.