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musings

Walkers

I walk.

When the voice gets too loud in my head, when my thoughts tumble around and weave into each other like knitting needles and start to press on my eyeballs, start to make the blood leak out of my ears–

I walk.

When I close my eyes but sleep won’t come, when I am trapped in the miseries of my own making, when I am trapped in the past even as I desperately try to dig my way out to just my present so that I can live long enough to scrabble through to my hard-won future–

I walk.

When I worry myself that she will never answer, when I know that she doesn’t care, when I fall into the fantasy that no one can, will, should, needs to, is capable of caring for this dessicated flesh bag that houses my soul–

I walk!

I walk to forgive myself. I walk to forgive all the imagined hurts that have been rained down on me by people deliberate and cruel, but worst from those just unaware and uncaring. I walk to forget. I walk to breathe. I walk to remember the truth that I do matter, that I do have real friends, that someone would step in front of train for me, that she does love me, that I do love myself.

I walk…I walk…I walk…

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About Quinn

In it but not of it. A reformed player, now watcher. Speaker of raw truths.

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Raison d’etre

"Raw," she said. "I want something primal. I want something bare and naked. I want you to give me this life raw, unbidden, unhidden, free, fair, and true. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?"

One may only try.

October 2016
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