
"Every morning this forest path swells with a river of people like me –shifty dreamers– streaming through the trees. We’re bobbing noses and ears, living bodies of goals. Rushing. Running. Racing. We’re together, side by side, and yet, worlds away in our own minds struggling through the last mile.
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I let you analyze me. You picked me apart and left the pieces for someone else. 'You're broken', you said. Cold, erudite -yes. But I'm not dead. Through my weakness I find that I'm growing stronger every day. I'm learning to admit my wrongs, rather than indulge my faults as eccentricities. You'd barely recognize me."