Sometimes I'm just me.
I happened to follow the advice of someone I care about today, and so I went running. Usually I'll run four or so days every week by following the little streets near my house, which in truth is really only one k long, though I do run it a few times and do some other exercises too.
However yes I run...but I can never reach the level I so badly want to reach: where you can just run and run and be in it and not see the pain any more or have to really stop.
So today I became the wolf.
I ran for two hours, following tiny lanes that snuck between the back yards of houses, up winding hills that led to a rather quailing view of the gold coast and I also conquered a small river crossing that had no bridge. I came back spent, but I was just...pumping, pumping thrilled!
See I found it - that space of mind - and true it was only during one part of my run, but for that time I didn't need to stop and didn't feel any pain or panic. Bloody awesome. :]
Sometimes - well particularly yesterday - I feel the walls closing in on me and that there's something fracturing around me or in me, I can never say which. However this pressing down, haunted feeling led me to go on my run today, in that I just knew I couldn't stay in the house like I usually did.
That to toss off the feelings that are growing and sheltering in me, I needed to toss off any boundaries. Namely any route...to just follow a road and see where it takes you.
It did scare me though, wondering if I could just become so trapped in my head and in my routine and not wanting to do anything or deal with real people, that I'll never want to again. That it'll just be too hard to get back into the swing of things.
That I have fallen between the cracks and have only just realized it. Where is the end?
It probably doesn't help to think about it, because thinking about it so much makes me afraid of how far I've fallen from where I was earlier this year. There'll be a break...somewhere. Has to be.
Lastly a small technique on writing (since this is supposedly what this blog is meant to be about).
Stop staring at the screen and reading about writing. Just write. Not for deadlines or perfection or guilt, but for yourself. If you can't do it for yourself, write for someone you care about.
This is as much advice for you as for me. Seemingly I have become someone who talks about writing, romantizes about how I am a writer and reads books on writing, yet when it comes down to it, I just end up staring and fretting at the screen.
In the end we need to get over ourselves and just do it.
Smiling more is also something I should probably start doing - and that we all should - constantly not smiling just makes a life that is sometimes way gloomy, even more gloomy.
So smiles, smiles, smiles. Be a happiness magnet as some would say, though it makes my skin crawl to think of being one heehee.
Until next time dear ones, here's a small poem.
Miss CLScarlett xx
There Was a Box.
There was a box...
Within time, notes of music, its' very lining.
There was a box...
Swept up by the seas, until it came to rest, before my knees.
There was a box...
Of beauty kept, that had sweet letters, stained on silk.
There was a box...
Laden with stars, that held their ancestry, and holy birth.
There was a box...
That's name was sadness, yet produced great mirth.
There was a box...
That's name was light, it had no soul, only spirit to guide.
There was a box...
That was laden with wishes once lost, that dwelt in a place not seen by wars.
There was a box...
Its' beauty had no limits, its' depth was the ocean and its' hight was space.
There was a box...
It held a heart, both bold and beautiful, yet destined to death.
There was a box...
That kindled a flame, that lit homes and spit fire into love.
There was a box.
There was a box...
Its' legacy remains, as timeless as sand.
There was a box...
That held a thundercloud, that upon release tyrants the earth.
There was a box...
It held both beauty and terror, a Pandora's likeness, that was not much purer.
There was a box...
That birthed both angels and demons, that was everything and nothing.
There was a box...
It was a key.
It was you and me.
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