I miss the forest.
I miss waking up with the sun, eating huge bowls of porridge and sausages
The long rides in the cramped truck down logging roads
I miss working hard.
The rain, the bugs, the sun, the wind, the cuts, bruises, and aching joints.
I miss it all.
I miss not having to think about you.
Not having to think about money and responsibility and time
Because all I had to do was work, eat and sleep
and live outdoors.
Now I'm this cramped house--it's messy--it's full of things, and none of them I need: none of them I want
I just want to run.
But you told me I've run too much.
I miss waking up with the sun, eating huge bowls of porridge and sausages
The long rides in the cramped truck down logging roads
I miss working hard.
The rain, the bugs, the sun, the wind, the cuts, bruises, and aching joints.
I miss it all.
I miss not having to think about you.
Not having to think about money and responsibility and time
Because all I had to do was work, eat and sleep
and live outdoors.
Now I'm this cramped house--it's messy--it's full of things, and none of them I need: none of them I want
I just want to run.
But you told me I've run too much.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
arroia:
Love this, and I feel very much the same; I miss my mom's farm, quiet mornings, working outside and the simplicity life used to be...
horror_head:
Just because someone tells you you've run too much, doesn't mean you can't run.