Why do I run?
Everyday I put on my stinky running shoes and take a jog around the parks of my neighborhood. I run and run. And run and run. What from?
Do I like the person I am? I think so. But what if I'm running from that person? To that person? Through that person?
Am I a celebrity six, living through the prism of a drug fiend's trip-addled brain?
Am I a nobody, slumming through the streets, trying to make some kind--any kind of connection?
Time to slap on those sneakers and find out. Flow my tears.
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