night running

Let's go night running.  Because I could really use someone by my side to share the silence.  You won't see my face in the moonlight and I won't see yours, because it doesn't matter.  It doesn't matter squat.  I won't care that my upper arms are getting softer and squishier and you won't care that your face is scarred by acne.  Our breathing will be discordant and rapid, but we won't care about the fact that we have no synchronization.  We'll never be beautiful like the actors and actresses in the movies who can make sobbing look flawlessly perfect.  We don't need to be.  We're tired of adjusting unnatural masks.  We're tired of pretending to be everything we're not.  We're just damn tired of being.  So we're not running away from ourselves anymore.  We're not running away from anything.  We're running because bleeding rock embedded bare feet tell us to keep trying to fly and our mismatched hard heartbeats tell us that the faster we move the higher we go.  And the higher we go, the closer we are to the three-year old angel who died yesterday because cancer doesn't give a shit about age.  The higher we go, the closer we are to my uncle who smoked too many cigarettes like my dad does now.  The higher we go, the closer we are to the boy who took his life because people kept telling him it gets better but all he heard were empty words.  And the only reason we're not scared, is because we have each other.  As long as you don't look into my eyes and I don't look into yours, the fear is nonexistent because we can't see it.

We're still pretending, aren't we?  We think we're brave because we're pounding the empty streets while the darkness wants to grab us by our ankles.  Who are we kidding?  We're running away from ourselves and from dealing; like we always do.  And you say running away is never the answer but we sure as hell are going to try.  We wanted to feel free and alive and defiant in the beginning.  But then something changed and we remembered that the living become the dead and the dead were once the living.  We're feeling worse than we were when we started and we don't know how to talk to each other so we don't say anything.  We're not living while we're here, and the dead can't live anymore.  And we stopped digging for the why behind things that are impossible to understand.  So let's go running, imaginary friend, because I like it better than the alternative of sitting on a stationary lazy ass in a quiet house afraid.  Of the silence outside and the noise inside my head.

I'm not delusional.  There's just a missing puzzle piece I kicked under a couch somewhere forgotten.  There's a lot of missing pieces but that piece in particular said friend, and maybe if I looked hard enough, I'd find the piece.  But something tells me that I never had it in the first place.  I just make up a lot of things.  I don't imagine you as anything though, you're just a name.  Maybe imaginary friend makes me sound like a demented teenager.  But it makes me seem less alone.  I suck sounds a lot less harsh as I repeat it.  My mouth is still closed.  I didn't feel anything as I typed this.  Nothing makes sense.  My words are meaningless.  I mean, what in the world did I just write?  I'd like to believe that we're all a little unhinged.