I’m running and running and running. And I don’t know why I am running so hard or what I am running away from, but I actually do know exactly what I am running away from and why I am running so hard for in the same breath.
It is dark. I shouldn’t be running. It is past midnight. I shouldn’t be running. But that is part of the reason I run, part of why I take the risk anyway, because I need to defy something, anything. in my own terms.
One of the toughest things about traveling the world alone is hearing the news from where you left. It isn’t because you necessarily miss what you ultimately flipped off, burnt, then pissed on the ashes. Although, the imagery is clear.
I’ve burned a lot of things in my day.
I heaved a hefty sigh because it had been four days without any contact from Katherine. I’d hoped she would have responded to me since I posed about meeting up a few days ago, then had felt immediately bad because I’d rushed getting to a point since there hadn’t been a gite available where I said I’d be. When I’d gotten wifi again, I’d emailed to tell her I was in Cahors, but the day after that, still nothing.
I had to wonder if it had been something I’d said or done, of course, if just for those few childish seconds. Everybody likes to be liked (more or less), and I was beginning to second guess my capabilities at being a normal human being now that I was out on the road alone without my books and video games to protect me. Perhaps I made too many geeky references and my ridiculous personality point of being blunt/honest wasn’t taken as great as I’d thought.
Maybe they’d seen my blog and thought, “Ooooooooooooooooookay, going to just leave that one there…”
The morning started a bit later than I wished, mostly because the night before, I had run into Sergo-Roberto. Roger and I had been getting ready to eat when, suddenly, there he was.
I was beyond ecstatic.