FUCK HIKING

Journey to the top of the mountian always starts at the bottom.
Journey of 1000 miles always begins with the first step.
Depressed?

*Physical activities always helps me.

*Get out and do something.

WHAT THE FUCK Y’ALL THINK I BEEN DOING!?!? SITTING ON MY ASS!?!?

I actually love hiking. I get this push, almost to beat myself to the top. This drive makes me wonder if I would have made a great athlete, with proper direction (and if I was also born with natural talent, size more than average). Have to board another fucking tin can destined to break laws of nature, physics, and hurl me from Charlotte to Dallas in the least comfortable fashion engineering’s corporate driven design could afford me.

BUT HEY! BEATS THE HELL OUTTA DRIVING (wait, I LIKE driving)!
I digress, back to hiking. I love the trees, the wildlife, the smells, the sounds…. the companionship… which ironically is usually just me.

In a forest (unlike a hotel room) I am away from others, isolated in the great wide open (or density of the trees), free of judgement, comparison, jealousy, desire, lust (yes even my sex drive subsides) frustration at rude fucking trolls who feel the need to step directly in front of you to get closer to the line at the airport.
(Yes you 2!!!)πŸ–•πŸ–•πŸ–•πŸ‘ŠπŸ‘‹πŸ–•πŸ–•πŸ–• I still boarded before both of you fucks… God bless you both.

Again … where was I?

My inner dialect subsides, becomes gentler and less harsh on me. And apparently less harsh on those around me, ie.. people who jump infront of me.
I feel closer to God. I converse with him as if He were on the trail with me, with a frankness that I am not sure He appreciates.

“Hey God, why did such an optimistic, and happy young man turn into such a gun shy, untrusting, guarded fuck like me.” Or..
“Hey God, why can’t I have the things I really want, cause of all the sex out of wedlock? Drugs? Alcohol? Masterbation?”
“Hey God, dont give me cancer, strike me down, plane crash, lightning, car wreck, deer attack. Something quick and at anytime.. I’m ready. Um. Ok… waiting…”

” Hey God, it’s me Margaret.”
I look up in the trees and see the light shine through, reflecting off the leaves and branches. The rays of sun shooting through like beams. Tranquility. I love the thoughts of living in the mountian. I would become a recluse. I remember being the guy who really believed everybody deep down “honestly was trying to do the right thing”. So far away… I want to be that naive again.
Not sure where I lost my Rose colored glasses, somewhere in a pile of blow, burnt up in a meth pipe, melted away in a psychotic trip with shrooms, acid, or what the kids now call molly (most likely were enhanced during the psychotropicsπŸ˜‰).

I actually remember sitting them under a bottle of Jack. And there was that time, on the couch, with that girl…. yup that’s where I lost them……. In a vagina (Ahha moment!). Is it possible that is what I have been doing? Looking in vaginas for my youth? I have had more sex than most men my age, I don’t say that to brag.. more as a confession. Even people I should be ashamed for having fucked, yet are high on my sex stories list. And dont ask me to come up with numbers, it’s gonna be a guess. Hell I have forgotten names from the past year even. I did have a 6 months dry spell, by choice. All that and I only managed to fall in love 4 times, married twice, not recommended.
⬆⬆⬆

Look out alcoholics anonymous, just finished my fearless moral inventory. I think I would make Bill W. blush. In one fucking paragraph. Ha! My ego thrives through self loathing.
Oh yes… climbing to the top.
The squirrels are my favorite, those scampering little pricks…. They literally have no worries. Usually in pairs. Nothing to parallel here, nothing prophetic.. I just love squirrels. Adhd intermission if you will.
I never get to a summit though. Side trails intrigue me, especially where they are not clearly marked. Especially where there is no trail. People who have poor internal compasses are warned to never do this. I have a poor internal compass, hell, I would hardly be able to utilize a compass in my hand WITH a map. I regularly lose my way. Suprisingly, this is not only figurative it is quite literal.
In hindsight, i really need to go for a hike, and fuck. Actually both together.
So back to my original question, you remember back at the top, before all my rambling.

Oops, not that..
WHAT THE FUCK Y’ALL THINK I BEEN DOING!?!? SITTING ON MY ASS!?!?

I’ve been getting up…
Every morning….
Against every part of my body and mind that fights it….
I move, slowly at times, not doing everything I need to….

I keep moving, even when I should stop. How’s that for get out and fucking do something!?!?

Somehow this year’s passing holiday blah didnt pass, it festered…it held on and grew. Like a sore, rotted with infection, painful and oozing with ugly stuff I never wanted the world to see. Interesting Segway the story takes. I didnt see it when I started writing. Our body is full of dangerous bacteria. Stored there, really not harming us, until oxygen hits it… then boom!
Wow… think that trail was not marked.

I mean have you seen my ass? Well 15 yrs ago it was really something.
I’m tragically flawed, but I got a great heart. What a day for a hike.

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