Running

It’s almost my half birthday, almost your half birthday. Happy almost whatever that means. I can’t even remember if you’re the 30th or the 31st. Cool cool cool. I heard you ran a marathon in record speed. You’re getting faster and faster or maybe just more efficient. Avoidance is a sport too. Either way keep it up. Good job good game or whatever. We love to talk about how quickly the year came and went. A nervous habit like when we grasp at other low hanging fruit. Something easy like the weather the political climate your parents’ retirement. Like when we scroll for more. Keep scrolling until our thumbs go numb. Like when they say link in bio when they really mean it. Here let me grab a drink while you finish your thought. It did feel infinite to me. The year I mean. More like several packed into one. At least two more than we thought. Maybe three. Triplets? A year pregnant with others or perhaps we should choose a less graphic metaphor. Does it feel better to equate it to those matryoshka dolls? You know the ones? What I mean is it’s a lot stuffed into a little. What I mean is I’m not how you remember me to be.