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Left in the Dust - The Rantings of a Red Sox Fan
Warning: May Contain Whining About Losing Streaks
Left in the Dust

The dusty road stretches on and on as far as the eye can see. The wind picking up particles of the gritty sand and swirling them around in a cloud of dust and debris.

The sound of it is somehow soothing, the gentle rustling of it a balm to a wounded soul.

And as the tears make tracks down my cheeks, I wonder if any amount of balm will ever heal the deep wounds of my soul.

Or if they will just continue to bleed freely, a crimson river flowing into a sinister lake of blood.

As I walk this lonely road alone, I can't help but hope that someone will come along and rescue me from it, lifting me up and carrying me away from the desperate pain and sorrow I feel myself drowning in.

The walls are closing in, the air thickening and harder to breathe. I feel myself being smothered slowly in it.

And yet I relish in it, embrace it even, until I feel the last breathe about to leave my body before the wall suddenly fall back, the air thinning out, becoming breathable again.

I take long slow lungs of it to the very core of me, feeling it waking me up, making me feel alive again.

And when I look up to see who has saved me from my ultimate demise, I see no one, but I hear a clear, liquid note carrying on the wind, a song of some sort. And with it comes hope of a brighter day.

Hope that I won't just be left in the dust.

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Current Location: Home
Current Mood: frustrated frustrated
Current Music: The Rachel Maddow Show

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