What a little bit does

 

It rained so hard, and my clothes were soaked through

I couldn’t tell the difference between my clothes and the cold air

I ran through the wet grass and leaves and felt the branches from trees tearing at my cheeks, arms and legs. Being tired was not an issue, out of breath but not out of love. I could have run through that forest many more times, with more rain and branches and muddiness that finds its way through shoes and socks.

I can’t help thinking that there is nothing to run for anymore, what’s more, should I have to run through the forest in the first place?

There is something wrong here. I used to love running in the rain, through the mud… the harder it was the better.

It’s not the rain I don’t like… it’s not the mud or the branches. It’s the not running in any direction. This way to love, that way to happiness, hello sunshine and warm bath. It’s the running for the two of us.

I’m going to stop running for now. I’ll walk next time.

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