Dear Diary,
It’s been a while. I’ve been wrapped up in my own little world, trying to fight off the evil fortresses of the hectic schedules of work, home, & school. I’ve thought about you often, but find other things to fill my days and nights. I collapse into bed, sinking into the oblivion of a hopeful, quiet night of rest. I hear the world pounding through my head reinforcing the ability I have to overthink. It tells me that I can only do so much, that I can only be so much, that I will only know so much. It tries to put walls around my heart and block out what it considers nonsense, but what drives me to believe in more than myself.
The world tries to tell me what to do every day. It tells me who I’m supposed to be, what I’m supposed to look like, how I’m supposed to act. It tries to form me into the molds that others have created. It tries to grow my brain and shrink my soul. But every morning when I head out into the darkness, I prove it wrong. I don’t let it determine what I can and cannot do. I don’t let it tell me I don’t have the strength or the courage to be me. I don’t let it make me who it thinks I should be. I won’t let it tell me that I can’t believe in myself.
I escape in the early morning hours to balance out my world. Some use running as a way to sort through things, to think, to work out problems. I use running to stop and be still. I think of nothing but how the moon reflects off the roads, the sounds my feet make with every strike, or the feeling of my heart beating in my chest. It’s quiet. It’s dark. It’s perfect.
Dear Diary…
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