Twisted.

I spent the better half of my easter alone. Besides the company of my two furry companions, I was flying solo today.

Skipped work because of a head splitting migraine that I think I received after downing a 20oz. cup of dark roast. I called in. I called thrice. Three times and no answer. Did work close today? I am not too sure... I'll find out on Tuesday. It was nice though. I was handicapped and in pain, numb and slightly annoyed, but I found solace in a series of.

Around 5pm the solitude bit me in the ass and I decided to go running. To clear my mind and to feel something, I went out into the storm. For an hour and a half I was pounding the pavement. One foot, in front of the other. A steady ongoing cadence of patter of rain, and the seeping lactic acid spreading across my quads. What a breathe of fresh air. Running is the perfect Rx for stress and to regain a sense of things worth living for. I ran unplugged and just like a dam that is overflowed, all my emotions and thoughts flowed and soaked my business socks more than the pelting rain.

I didn't know what was going to happen out there. I just knew I had to do it. I wanted to see if I could. A tiny voice in my head telling me to find out who I am by testing myself. To invite pain to see how long I can endure it. This in a weird way keeps me sane. Grounded. A little twisted, but in good faith and time I will slowly see who Philliam Wallace really is. Because when I find out, the rest just follows.