The Correspondence of a Middle Distance Runner

No direction - my life however is highly structured against my better instinct. Same time same route same cube same lunch same email same sales pitch same Anderson cooper 360. Slight variations - contentment - I'm not in love - I'm slightly challenged - I'm petrified with fear (occasionally). I see girls. A white chic on bart with long blond strands dirtied with black streaks, fair skin, petite pointy nose, nonchalantly thumbing through songs on her I pod. What if I broke these imaginary social mores in my head and got up - walked over there smiled combo eye stare/flirty smile and simply said "hello". She couldn't hate me for that - probably respect me, probably engage me equally or give me an ironic look. Its as if my life will end if it doesn't work. The brain, the fucking brain - tricks you into retreating into an indifferent state when you're genuinely motivated to LIVE. You feel trapped however, this feeling slowly morphs into normality - the normalness, the routine strips you of spontaneity and you accept.

Imagine no fear, pure instinct and confidence. People's reactions are meaningless, the only important thing is you're naturally drawn to following an irrefutable force which draws you to speak, to act, to move in the direction of the unknown - yet, you know its right.