iRun

I’m running. I have been running for a little over 2 years now. I ran from my last serious relationship and my 2 year marathon is weighing heavy on me. I’m not prepared to deal with this. I feel vulnerable, confused, and most of all scared shitless. I’m faced with the chance of something remotely normal and all I can do is panic. I’m running so fast that I can feel my heart in my throat and the restricted breathing. Uneven. The sting on my cheeks. I feel the tears. Only further proof of my vulnerability. I hate feeling like this. This is not me but yet it is. I’m always confident, self-assured, and know exactly what I want. Except for right now. Right now, it’s a little after midnight and I’m crying alone. I hate to cry. It’s my weakness. The only time I’m fully open to anyone. The confident woman I am turns into a scared, lost unidentifiable person.

I despise that confused little girl. Those tears, that confusion, washes so many suppressed memories over me that life becomes uncontrollable. I’m a grow woman, yet I’m crying like an infant. I just need answers, then things go back to normal. I stop crying and my eyes stop itching! (Crying makes my eyes itch like I have pink eye.)

My mind is in a whirlwind. I’m not sure which way is up. All I know is that I need some air and someone to stand me back up on my own two feet. Decisions are my burdens. Disappointment is what I will deliver. Just screaming “what the fuck is wrong with me!?” No matter what I do it’s never enough. It never is. It didn’t save me before and it doesn’t save me now. I’m only blinded by the blurring lines of uncertainty.

Raw. Open. Exposed. I hate this. This can’t be me. My mask is my protection and I need it back! I don’t like it when things force it off. People don’t like what they see. A rock is steady. Never faltering. That’s my job. Yet something makes me crazy this way.

Restless, sleepless night. Angered responses. All from frustration. Frustration that needs to go away. I don’t care how. It just need to go away. Quickly. Never returning. Never looking back.

Flaws acknowledged. Pointed out like a plastic surgeon with his big red marker. Bruised, broken, and shuttered. Pieces have been laying there, jaded, for longer than I can remember. Maybe I should date them. Take that back. There are too many unidentifiable pieces already. My flaws haunt me even in my darkest moments. I don’t react. Emotion is not allowed. My body does my thinking and moving. Emotions fall free to the ground. Better left buried because uncovered they would surely wreak.

I have the comforts of nothing and I knowingly made it that way. Once again, the only screaming question in my head is “what the fuck is wrong with me!?!”

“Well I’ve never been the kind to ever let my feelings show And I thought that bein’ strong meant never losin’ your self-control But I’m just drunk enough to let go of my pain
To hell with my pride
Let it fall like rain, from my eyes
Tonight I wanna cry”

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