Hot. Doing my best to stay hydrated. Not an easy thing to do in this 100° weather. My lips stay parched, my muscles weak. I’m not sweating, which worries me a little. I’m not cramping up, I’m just tired and weak. The swelling makes it a little hard to breathe, but not to the point of distress. My clothes don’t fit and I have no control over my bodily functions.
It feels as if I’m treading ground I haven’t walked in years, without the crushing chest pain. My eyes want to sleep, but there is no rest. I don’t feel like talking or engaging anyone. It’s more like I’m awaiting some news I kinda don’t want to hear. All in all, I’m just tired.
Words, words, words they seem to escape me for the moment. The adrenaline that pumped yesterday has faded away. Now it’s time for the rubber meet the road; and those words of affirmation put to the test. So I silently, patiently belly crawl through the barbed wire of some long forgotten war. Looking to the other side, whining and complaining the whole way. With the dirt and the mud rubbing my ass raw, I still crawl. Not because I want too, but because I got too.
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FD Thornton, Jr
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