Run With Me

It’s only 10 miles.
A circumference drawn by some random douche high above in the heavens on a metaphorical map on the surface on Mother Earth, and you’re smackdab in the middle of it. No compass, no GPS, no clear destination.

Kind of leaves one with the sensation of a deep sorrow nipping at their nose. The perpetual feeling one gets when receiving a simple reply of “k” after typing out a 3 paragraph message.

Just a lone pepperoni slice placed in the center of an ordered cheese pizza by a vindictive underpaid Domino’s employee. A shipwreck survivor stranded in the middle of the Atlantic for what feels like an eternity & finally reaching dry land, only to find out it’s an offshore offtherecords island hosting a U.S. military facility that conducts experiments that would make conspiracy theorists froth from the mouth.
You shouldn’t be here but you sure as hell can’t leave now.

But it’s really only a 10 mile radius.

Kind of leaves one with the sensation of a deep sorrow nipping at their nose. The perpetual feeling one gets when receiving a simple reply of “k” after typing out a 3 paragraph message; every day, written in an itinerary outlined by some random douche from high above. A feeling that never dissipates even as the body runs through the predetermined gauntlet, task after task, every sight seen before seen once more for good measure. The occasional unfamiliar twist leading to an unfamiliar road, sure, but nothing that leads towards an unexpected outcome.

All because of 10 miles. It’s only 10 miles, give or take.
A seemingly inescapable 10 miles.

Kind of leaves one with the sensation of a deep sorrow nipping at their nose. The perpetual feeling one gets when experiencing déjà vu without being invested enough to properly notice.

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