For such an unexciting life,I sure do run a lot...
And it's not so much about the action itself,but the restlessness that lies beneath these worn out soles.Where am I going?Why am I doing this?What am I running for?I'd hate to draw a conclusion in the form of a morbid metaphor,but...But.
I'd laugh at my own balancing act,but that would be just sad and cruel.Though the way I cover my own growing insecurity under the masks of "family" and "duty" is a joke I can hardly bear anymore.What should it be then?Forced maturity or slow descent into the mediocre past?Because of the two evils I must choose that which causes less tears,be them real or not.
"Is this the time for life-altering decisions?" I ask myself.Of course not!I'm home,I'm safe,I'm tired.My bones feel like broken twigs and everything seems possible...in my imagination.You cannot picture the rush of courage seclusion brings about!Maybe that's why it's so damn depressing to witness the confrontation between the hero in my mind and the stale image of the present...
I run.I'm constantly running-not towards,but from.From myself,from change,from limitation.One day,I'll find that gun.
And it's not so much about the action itself,but the restlessness that lies beneath these worn out soles.Where am I going?Why am I doing this?What am I running for?I'd hate to draw a conclusion in the form of a morbid metaphor,but...But.
I'd laugh at my own balancing act,but that would be just sad and cruel.Though the way I cover my own growing insecurity under the masks of "family" and "duty" is a joke I can hardly bear anymore.What should it be then?Forced maturity or slow descent into the mediocre past?Because of the two evils I must choose that which causes less tears,be them real or not.
"Is this the time for life-altering decisions?" I ask myself.Of course not!I'm home,I'm safe,I'm tired.My bones feel like broken twigs and everything seems possible...in my imagination.You cannot picture the rush of courage seclusion brings about!Maybe that's why it's so damn depressing to witness the confrontation between the hero in my mind and the stale image of the present...
I run.I'm constantly running-not towards,but from.From myself,from change,from limitation.One day,I'll find that gun.
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