How many of these cardio classes do I have to endure before my depression is cured?
“Oh, did you have a cheat meal?”
Nope, I was eating my feelings. Loyalty had nothing to do with it.
I once asked my dad why he backed into parking spots when we went to church. He kept his eyes forward as we walked from the back of the parking lot to the church’s front door. “Quicker exit,” he said, and I think about this as I pull into the parking lot at work and watch the side mirrors as I back myself into a corner spot.
You eat the macaroni and cheese you think you deserve. This is not a judgment against people who choose boxed over baked, but I do believe that they could learn to love themselves a little more.
But this is a job issue and that makes it a money issue, which is precisely the type of thing I could take to the God of the prosperity gospel.
When will the amnesia set it? When will the many tears I shed be replaced by feelings of nostalgia?
But when the time came, and I chose to close my notebook and lace up one of my three pairs of running shoes, I discovered that the hope was nothing more than that—a wish for an untrue thing to be true. Honestly, I have to confess, I’m not sure if I like actually running or if I just prefer it to sitting in front of a blank sheet of paper attempting (and failing) to be special.
“Jesus did not, in fact, travel all the way to earth, uphill and in the sand, to give you the freedom to act like a child of Satan.”
But I hate feeling like I am just one more writer with confidence issues. It’s so cliché and uninteresting.
We made it to 100. Thanks for hanging out.