worn out

They say running is, in effect, a controlled fall. So I run. Run away. Run back. Run till it hurts. Run till I'm numb again. I thought I could handle this, but the flesh is weak.

Blood, sweat, and tears. But not in that order.

Thank you for helping me, even when I wouldn't admit I was in over my head.

Run away, then run back.

The gap between willingness and ability is too far to bridge.

Nothing to do but run.