Running. Running so fast that your heart tightens and can’t keep count of it’s own beat. Slamming each foot on the ground. Unable to see the possibility of ever being able to stand still. Maybe one day I will stand still. Maybe one day I’ll get to see why the end result is so typical of one of those stupid stories. You know, those stories about some sad person, with a huge amount of baggage. They get everything they want. Everything they could ever need, because obviously, they don’t need much to be happy, as that’s just the way the story always goes. But no. Not for me. It’s all taken away. Looks like I’m just going to have to tell the same different story. Again, and again. Oh, and over again.