Saturday Morning
Setting: "Let's Give the Boy a Hand"
My shoes slap into hard-packed dirt, my earbuds bounce in my ears, every breath tastes like warm air and cut grass and dust. I don't know how long I've been running but I've reached the point where I can barely feel my body anymore. Every forward stride keeps me rolling with the inertia. It seems like it'd be harder to stop than to just keep going.
It feels great. I can't hold a thought longer than a few seconds. They keep slipping away, somewhere between my breath and the bassline in my ears. It's nice to feel so present, like nothing else in the world exists. Because I think too fucking much.
It's early morning Saturday. I decided to go out before it gets too hot. I don't think it's supposed to get above 80 but with the humidity it always feels like running against jello.
Not sure what my weekend holds for me. At the moment it doesn't matter. Nothing really matters except this.
So I breathe, keep on moving forward, right into a bright patch of sunlight.