I sat outside and the let chill seep into my bones. Beneath the delicate layers of my skin, between my meticulously curated set of cells, deeply entrenched among the fury of activity within, I let the cool air invade and settle. And as the howls of the wind fell into silence, all I could hear was the steady sound of my ragged breathing.
I have been struggling to string together sentences these days. I have been at a loss with my words. So much has happened, so much has changed, so much has remained the same, and yet, no words have come close to describing how I feel.
Things are good. Until they aren’t. Until they inevitably become good again. How strange it is to exist in such precarious states.
And so I run. In the cold. And I let the jagged air race through me and my thoughts freely slip into nothingness as I patiently wait for the day they remain.