running away from myself.

it seems as though that is all I have done the past few months.

I run. Step after step. And alone in my footsteps I come across my truest self. I pick up the pace to get rid of what I am, but my thoughts wrap themselves around me, starting from the inside, just like a vine.

a few days ago I heard a sermon on silence- the power of it and the necessity. One of the most brutal, yet beautiful, claims made was that we fear silence because in it we must face our own thoughts. Even in that moment, I wanted to avoid the truth of that. I wanted to clutter my own mind with noise to escape myself.

I have been running away from my own heart for far too long. From the choices I’ve made. From regrets I have. From facing my own selfishness. My own greed. My own fear. This year I moved to a new city and took a new job—and months later came home running. And I know it was the right thing—for myself, for my relationship, for my finances. But what about my own dreams? I left them sitting there and I have been running, running, running so I won’t have to collide headfirst where I left them- boomeranging straight back towards me. These past few months I have filled my soul—usually filled to the brim with novels and words and long runs—with more filler than ever before. I have hidden behind distractions and the thoughts and dreams and ideals have grown stale and bitter.

there is nothing wrong with the choices we make—they are made and we grow and gain and move on. But there is something direly wrong with running from the source of our hopes and dreams.

this is not a new year’s post. It is a new day’s post. To admit fear, to admit regret, to admit failure. And to stop running from it—to face it, to shake it’s hand, and move on.

there is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self. – ernest hemingway