When did I start taking things so seriously?
Was it last year when my ex turned? Two years ago when COVID hit? Four; when I left my partner, career and life behind for no apparent reason and headed for the mountains?
I’ve always felt things strongly. But fleeting. Life always goes on. This relentless intensity, though, has been exhausting.
And what have I learned? Trust nobody and life is short. Two truths life keeps hitting me with no matter how hard I try and avoid them.
Where have I ended up? Safe? Hardly. Alive? Somehow. Happy? I thought… I thought that’s what I was always being…
I’m sick of the cycle now. The bursts of rage. The days of talking so fast my tongue hurts followed by days of not speaking at all. The desperate attempts to break through the numbness by pushing my body to its limits.
I know where this path leads.
No amount of running is going to fix this.
I don’t want to be like this.
So I’m going to do what I always do when faced with something I don’t want to do anymore…
I’m going to stop.
FaerieFalls 