My legs are moving, but the scenery does not bend. I stand beneath an orange maple tree—the autumn leaves clinging onto its ancient limbs for dear life. I too, do not want to witness the fall of another year.

I roll my feet on a lonely pebble, training my mind to not falter in the midst of a chaos that has become synonymous with my life. The clouds are dark, the air is misty, and I—I am wholly broken. These forest greens and 10-kilometer runs no longer guard me from the monotony of my inner circle.

And so, on that moody Saturday afternoon I decided, the route I took this time would be different.

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