I think after a person feels a certain way for so long, she eventually has to tell herself to stop. Or at least she has to try to stop.
You can only run so far in one direction, right? Eventually you’ve got to turn around and head home.
But at the moment I convince myself to turn, I realize I’m confused. I’m not even sure where home is.
It’s a crazed state. An altered state. A not knowing why or how.
Whatever keeps the scale balanced is gone. There’s a piece missing.
The roads are icy. Which means they’re slick and I can’t get any traction.
It’s cold, cold, cold. Then one day it’s warmer and it seems so delightful. Yet the next day it’s cold again.
And even though Spring will be here in not so long, Winter will come again. Winter always comes again.
So there are glimmers of hope, yet reminders of despair. Can the two exist at once?
I tell myself I am too smart to be confused; too sane to feel so crazed.
Where’s the fairness? The justification?
So I keep running. Straight. I cannot turn around. Not yet.
I am currently oblivious to the destination. Yet I know I’ll get there. Eventually.
Upon a Sunny Day 