I’ve been trying to run away from my life for most of my life, really. I can’t remember a time when my thoughts weren’t occupied by the deep creases of my imagination, wondering what life could be if it wasn’t this one I have. I don’t mean for that to imply that I dislike my life – I don’t really. I’ve just always been curious – what if it was different?
I’ve been trying to get away from Texas for as long as I can remember. Not because it’s bad, really. I’m just pretty restless. And there’s so much to see – why stay in one place? Life is so short, and there’s little time to spend places that don’t feel like joy.
All of that sounds wonderful, but the truth is – even the best places sometimes don’t feel like happiness. They aren’t bursting with joy. Some days my heart feels full of a dull ache – the kind that makes the rest of life feel uncomfortable. It seems to overflow with anxious energy, which fills my veins and makes life feel difficult.
So, what then? I’ve learned running away from my thoughts doesn’t work, as much as I wish it did. The uncomfortable energy that spills into each part of my consciousness doesn’t go away, no matter how many miles between any of the causes. And I guess the only answer I have is, that’s life. And running only allows more time to think.