what you say is what you are...
it's 11:00 at night; i want more than anything to go running and feel the chill of the air against the bones of my face, hear the thud of my feet echo in the silence of the dark. that's what i would do if no one else were still awake and i wouldn't have to worry about someone telling my dad.two januaries ago when i was starting to really slide into depression, i used to go walking late at night; i would be wearing my pajamas and i'd wrap myself in a blanket and walk up and down the street until my mind had cleared at least a little. john and i were just friends then and he and peter would talk to me late at night and ask me to please stay inside or if i had to go out, to please not go far and please try to be careful. i'm not sure i ever listened, i was in so deep over my head at that point. i had to walk because i had to get out and i didn't know what else to do.
it's not really like that now. i don't want to do this because i feel psychotic or desparate or any such thing, i just have an urge to leave for a little while and run until i can feel the pain in my sides and my legs and my lungs. and then i want to keep running until i run all of the pain right out of me.