Maybe it's the figuring out, over and over and over again. Learning and relearning lessons that I already knew. Or maybe it's the realization that nothing ever really changes, except me.
Moving and shifting and growing and learning... Changing this and running from him and chasing after her. Running and running to escape the soiled, irreparable messes made, to catch up to that ever elusive, long awaited version of myself. Am I running from something really terrible? Am I chasing something truly worthwhile? Does it matter?
Only I matter. My being, and my reason for being. This life will be what I shape it into, a blurred collection of chaos and victimization, or a persistent existence fraught with intention and meaning.
It is what I want it to be.
It's purpose I'm running for. It might be what's making me run, it might what I'm running towards... Either way, it has me running. The existence and the promise of purpose. A life restricted by responsibility, ready to burst with opportunity.
It is what I make it.
So I'll make it something worthwhile, because it is.
