windy

I used to run all the time. Every day I would be out there, in the early morning when the air bites at you. I remember taking her out there once. We sat on a bench and just talked. I always wanted to show her how good I was at running, but I never did.

I think I am greedy. I want things but I want them in a way where I don't risk anything. Maybe it's because I've gotten hurt so much, but I'm finding myself to be stuck in the cloudiness of what I've done.

I get to see her progress steadily over the course of years. I don't know if she knows I'm paying attention, but I always try to. Something she said stuck with me, how she mentioned that it was always her in my life and never me in hers. I guess it's sort of the opposite now, where I feel as if I am looking at her through a window, and it's windy out here.

Maybe one day I'll get to show her how good I run. Maybe one day she'll want to see me.