Choosing to run is not as simple as it seems. I can run in fear, or I can pick up my running shoes and one is more effective than the other in eluding the spirits in pursuit: the running woman on the trail is not the woman running in fear. I can hide myself under the guise of a new personality from the forces that haunt me.
Hitting the trails would seemingly be more effective than running the streets in my car or sitting at home, equipped with endless amounts of coffee and cigarettes, neither of which form a potion effective enough to ward off the spells continuously cast upon me.
Motion forms its own potent potion and transforming myself into that which I am not currently is more protective and empowering than my same old routine of insane diatribes about smoking a connection between allies and smoking foes. In this world, these magical beings prefer I be smoking hawt, powerful, and strong than the fearful, cowering person I’ve become.
And here is sit in my smoke-filled room, wondeirng how I can muster the strength to try a new approach to tackling my problems and teasing out a new definition of what it means to be me.
See, the problem is that I can change, by definition, who I am and what I do, but the rub is that by becoming a new person, I open myself up to being smoked again, because the spirits won’t recognize me as being the same person who had been smoked previously.