last week something happened that made me feel angry. and hurt. and upset. and in pain. and for the first time in my life i didn't do something self-destructive or just generally destructive. i didn't smoke a cigarette. i didn't throw my phone. i didn't drink. i didn't take it out on someone else. i didn't binge eat. i simply got dressed and fucking ran. all around the crowded streets of new york city. i just wanted to run and run and run until i could run no more. until i could barely catch my breath. but the streets of nyc aren't the easiest to run around because they are so crowded so i hit the gym and set the treadmill on a high level and ran and ran and ran. it felt good. damn good.

and i guess karma does exist because right when i got out of the gym, i mean literally the minute i opened the door, i got a phone call. THE phone call. the one that says everything is ok again.