Sooooo…

It's hard to stay active. It's really really hard to stay motivated. I mean, you feel like you're doing all this work, but with very little to show for it.
And it's hard.
But I have still be running. not as much as I wish I was. I ran every day except Monday this week (That was because it was my BIRTHDAY!!!).
Anyway.
I don't really feel that motivated to write, so here's a pretentious poem about drinking yourself to death as a way to escape. (Something I actually know nothing about!)

"Let's run" the cave cries hollowly.

"Let's go where it can't find us."

Valleys and folds and meadows stretch out, 

Beckoning us to run.

The night is bright, the moon is high

And the moonshine trickles

Yeah

The moonshine trickles like blood

Down her mountainous sides.

She's breathing, her heartbeat loud

Pounding through the trees.

We won't run.

Where would we go?

The moonshine finds us everywhere, 

Yeah

The moonshine knows how to find us,

No matter where we go.

"Too late to run." the river whispers.

"No time left, you'll end up here."

She's fought so long to put this behind us, 

beneath our mountain lair. 

But somehow we lay in the moonshine

Yeah.

The moonshine lays with us here.

She'll lay there still by morning.

Her breath escaped for good.

She'll dream of running through the moonlight,

With moonshine in her throat

Yeah

With moonshine mixed in her blood

Blood that sits there cold.

We cry for freedom from the obsession, 

Feeling lost with no where to go

The horizon seems close enough to touch,

But covered in moonshine, 

Yeah.

Always covered in moonshine

And we're drenched in our fear.