This morning, I ran immediately after waking. I wish I always had the time to ease myself into the world via forty minutes of escapist physical exertion followed with a well-deserved shower. Living in my own skin is nearly intolerable. The only reliable means of escape are throwing myself into an all-consuming workout or getting wasted. Obviously, neither can really be done in tandem with the any of the items cluttering my to-do list.
I can't literally run away, so I'm doing my best to approximate the feeling. God, I wish I could think of a way to get some painkillers. The constant, buzzing discontent inside me is unendurable. I'm playing a dangerous game, letting things slide and waiting to see if I'll have the nerve to bury myself. So far, I've always evaded that seemingly inevitable fate. Except for rare moments of confession, no one's been the wiser.
Right now, January is my watchword. Distance and distraction won't solve anything, but if I part my hair artfully enough, my rat's nest of unresolved problems will be hidden away.
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