My Itchy Nose

I find again that my legs are tired. Is it ironic that I am physically exhausted? I think so. At this point you'll find I have a sick love for life irony, and I admit I do. The best irony I find is physically I am not athletic. I do not run very fast and when I try I can feel my lungs on the verge of bursting like a hollow caramel candy under the force of a hammer. However, emotionally I chase. Emotionally, I could run around the world, I could run to the moon and back. I could skip Saturn's rings until they've turned to dust under my feet. My sense of choice is good except on one aspect, who might you think does all the running? Another irony in that I am giving the ride as well. I have the emotional stamina to run like a cheetah however, however, I do not have the pride to let myself do that. I cannot succumb to a pathetic stance on my knees, which perhaps I have already done. It is in times like these that I feel the need to run in the opposite direction, in any other direction, to flee. In fear but not seen to any naked eye, but more so in dignity. Here I am, being again, or trying again, to be the man.