Lost and Found

When I am most lost,
I find that I run…
I run to the road,
the sun,
to get out and distract myself –
I seek out men,
usually ones who care naught for me as a person,
and seek to lose myself farther in sex,
the sweatier and more mindless inducing,
the better –
I seek out food and drink,
sugary sweets and salty treats,
a drink or two to loosen things,
which might lead to the abandonment above,
anything to distract me, delay having to deal
with depression or fear or frustration…
And so now,
when I’ve been asked to stop and feel,
to sit with my discomfort and pain,
I am finding that I’m all the more aware of my tendencies
to run, run, run –
physically or metaphorically,
and have had to rein myself in – slapping my hand
on the steering wheel in frustration –
the urge to bang my head against the wall
almost overwhelming –
habits are hard to shed,
but I wonder if we do lose them,
if we can finally, finally,
find our way
to our true selves
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