Doing for Me (What I can’t do for myself)

Memories have feelings.

A cold heat rising up from my toes and into my legs.

That unbearable restlessness.

It makes me want to do something.

Run. Around the block,

anywhere.

Escape myself.

But now it’s different.

I know there is nothing to fear

but the unpardonable sin

of thinking my way back to

serenity.

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