Apr. 21st, 2014

jmfargo: (me)
One foot ahead of the other. That was how I moved.

The pack on my back weighed over one-hundred pounds, and I weighed easily three times that amount.

Twenty miles a day over the course of a ten to twelve hour day.

Left foot. Right foot. Left foot.

One step after another. One foot, then the next, moving bit-by-bit. Not measuring in miles, really, rather measuring in footsteps. One. One more. One after that. One. One more. One more again. Counting by ones, up to one, every time.

Pick a spot in the distance. That's where I would rest, once I got there. That's where I would sit down. Not until I get to there but once I got there I'd rest as much as I needed, until I was ready to move again.

Step. By. Step.

Resting, singing quietly to myself, in a world devoid of anyone or anything else. Cars went by but didn't draw my notice unless they honked or stopped to offer me a ride. Otherwise they simply didn't exist; they were outside of what mattered.

The steps mattered. Getting back up from a rest mattered. Getting to the next resting point mattered. Nothing else. When I was hungry, I ate. I stepped and I ate. Step, bite, chew. Step, bite, chew.

Bit. By. Bit.

I didn't want to die anymore but I didn't know how to live. Until I figured that out, I would walk. Maybe each step got me closer to figuring it out. Only one way to find out.




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