How long can I run? The answer is more miles than you'd believe, but I know you don't live in a physical world. Every morning I get up and go for a run through these sleepily intimate streets. Before the sun burns away the morning chill, I run past houses. I run past apartments. I run past people waking up to their lives. They wake up and I imagine they embrace their day, happy with what they've got. This morning I ran past a house where a little girl was eating breakfast. We caught each other's eyes for less than a second. In that moment I imagined a life for her. She was secure, safe in a world where nothing was wrong. She didn't need to search for a reason as to why she ate her porridge with her left hand. The answer to why she wore her hair in a ponytail was clear. Life made sense for her, and it always would. How long can I run?
I'm glad you don't care about Sam. Well, you do, but you're not worried about him. You shouldn't worry about yourself. Even if you do when you're alone with those unwritten books swirling around you, you shouldn't. You'll get them written.
For myself, I don't know what the future holds. I'm jealous that you don't seem to care about it. How can you hold yourself against that flood of possibilities and potential failure. What if we find out that this meant nothing?
In my last letter I said I wasn't religious. That wasn't exactly true. I meant in the American sense, I don't really go to a specific church anymore. When someone tells me that I have to be a baptist or a catholic to make through death, well I disagree. There's something up there, probably.
Sunny days have come more and more often here. We're moving into summer. The humidity is different here. Sometimes I miss the way the air presses itself against your skin in Missouri. It is like God, or something, is embracing you. Promise me when I finally return, I don't know when, that you'll give me a hug. You know you're one of the only people I trust to lift me off the ground.
Now that I've fallen into a routine my days move past me quicker and quicker. I'm trying to hold them back. I'm trying to make a temporal dam against the future, but I know I'll have to come back. Will reality wait for me? I don't know if I'll be able to gain a foothold.
In the mornings I run before the heat touches the city. I run past houses and cars. People wake to the sound of my feet, hitting the pavement with a steady rhythm.
How long can I run?
-K
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