I have absolutely no idea why I did it, but hey man, endorphin high, still going. I'm not sure how far I ran, but it felt like a long way, which means basically nothing as I am not a worker-outer.
Ahh, my loves. Here's time for a distinct change of topic, and one that will of course make me look all the younger in all your eyes, but I'm just going to say it: One of my most common refrains of the past couple weeks has been this -- "Why are people unkind to one another?" Today as I was running, I saw a man screaming at his son for forgetting something in the house. Full-out screaming at him, as though the child had like, burned down a friggin' building or something, and the poor boy was just crying so hard, and I frankly just don't understand it. I'm not trying to say I'm the world's best person or anything - becuase I know for a fact I'm not - and I do know that I have been unkind and probably will be unkind again, but I like to think it's never anything I've done on purpose. When I see people literally trying to hurt one another it makes something in me twist and hurt and I just -- thank you, but no.
Maybe it's winter, because everything's so cold and sharp out that I think we could all use a little extra comfort. Maybe it's Christmas, though I doubt it. The sweaters, songs, and forced goodwill make me somewhat uncomfortable -- which isn't any kind of 'commercialization of a scared event' thing but at the franticness of it all. "GOOD WILL TOWARD MEN NOW!!" just seems so false and urgently so. I can't really stand it.
I used to be an incredibly angry person, but sometime in the past five years, that's mellowed, and it's left me with bits of recurring rage that leap up from time to time and I get disgusted and want to destroy things, but I try really hard to not take that out on people, and I don't know if it's just how I was raised or because I can't stand the guilt of really hurting people's feelings. But in conclusion, I can't stand the unkindness sometimes. I really just can't, and I wanted to pick that little boy up and brush away his tears and give him, I don't know, a freakin' pony or something. Not one of the talking ones that trinityofone has filled Atlantis with, but just something sweet that can't talk and has big brown eyes and will seem to understand what the boy wants.
I think this all may be part of the endorphine high, or maybe just being silly in love, or maybe just being on my own has made me think a lot about these things. Who even knows? But ladies and gentlemen, I do hope you have a good day. I do.