So you found a girl who thinks really deep thoughts.

I am imperfect but I am growing increasingly happy with my imperfections, rendering them void. I am not dependent on someone else for my happiness.  I choose my feelings and I am in control of when I have them and when I don't.  I can have whatever I want as long as I remember I need to work for it and just because I have it doesn't mean I quit working.  I am allowed to decide what the rules are.  I can also decide when they will change.  But I can't decide to change them just because it's easy.  I can stop chasing the attributes of other people and focus on my own.

Walking through a forest at the gloaming and watching the sun come up over a large body of water both elicit a suspension of disbelief, from what I don't know because those two things are about as real as real gets.  Perhaps a suspension of time and place where imperfections are beautiful because they are only compared to other imperfect things.

One year, twelve days.

That's how long it took for me to feel normal.

I have been overwhelmed by a need to write but I haven't had enough hardship lately to do so.  But here I am, inspired by happiness.  Who is this person I'm becoming?  Is this what I am supposed to be, what I always have been?

One year and twelve days ago I put on my running shoes and met some friends.  And I ran  And hated it.  I was slow and uncoordinated.  And it hurt.  But I kept running because it hurt less than the pain I had in my heart and I felt like I deserved it.  So I kept running.  Most people say they run because it clears their mind, that they can focus their entire being on that one task and it helps them find some kind of peace.  I ran because I wanted to be alone and be hurt.  Every run was another hour I had alone with my body, another hour of pain, another hour away from you.

Then four months and twenty-eight days ago I put on my running shoes and met some friends.  And I ran.  I ran thirteen and one tenth miles.  And it hurt.  But I didn't notice that until later.  What I did notice was over five thousand other runners and their families rejoicing in their victories.  A woman hugged me as I crossed the finish line and put a medal around my neck.  A man I didn't know offered me a slice of an orange and a bottle of water.  I had searched years for a sense of belonging and I had finally found it at the intersection of Delaware and West Huron.  I was home and I was loved.

Did it take me too long to realize that happiness doesn't always mean being happy?  I had wasted so much time waiting to find some kind of meaning and closure in all the pain and heartache that I couldn't see all of the beauty surrounding me.  I have found friends in strangers, love in darkness, and when I look in the mirror I see myself.

I started running because I wanted to get away from something.  I keep running because the more I do, the closer I get to me.

All you think of lately is getting underneath me.

In the beginning there is one.  Whether or not it is a part of a whole is still unanswerable but I think I am moving closer to stating with most certainty that there can be one without another.  Otherwise how would we know what being lonely feels like? 

He tells me that when it comes to gene mutations, sometimes it isn’t just the gene itself, it’s the things that are occurring around the gene or the cell that make it act a certain way.

When a cell is supposed to die and it doesn’t we call it a tumor.  When a person is supposed to die and it doesn’t we call it a survivor.

There is a school of thought that says educated women are more likely to be seduced because they can logically reason their attractedness to suitors.  I believe I may fall into this school of thought.  Perhaps it was invented for only me.