I’ve frequently dabbled in posting my writing. Through the years writing has been my therapy; whether to clear my head, express feelings or simply to day dream. Instead of focusing on a monetary benefit or changing someone’s life, I simply hope to share.
And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt. — Sylvia Plath
It’s like a runner’s high. We feel that burn and we know we’ve made it. Our legs are cramping as our feet pound the cement. It was a race. It was a challenge. It was life. And for these two years we ran, we won, we lived.
I guess when we have the runner’s high that maybe, we lose focus, and we lost focus of our friendship. The sweat is pouring down our faces blinding, as we try to be the first. One took the straight path the other took the detour then we traded places; we both dealt with difficult situations but we kept running.
Did you think we’d end up running away from each other? Both our bodies are exhausted, but we’re past the pain. Our breathing is steady; ironic, when our lives never have been. I can feel myself slow. I watch as you keep pushing through this terrain of hell and leave me with the fires burning.
I continue the race still ahead of others, but I’m walking, Slowing down observing everything we’ve passed; that we took for granted. You can win this race, it doesn’t matter. We’ll still see each other at the finish line. I’d rather cherish what few memories I have. I’d rather let this all soak in so at the finish line I can look at you and smile, even when I don’t feel like it.