Be Not Far from Me

by Mindy McGinnis

I do not know if I am panicking or if this is the most sane I have ever been. Have I finally lost it, or did I only realize that there is no hope, and to run through a storm is better than to die curled under a tree? There is something freeing in giving up and accepting that I am going to die out here. If the woods will have me, then first I will drink all it has to offer, a child once again, uncaring as to how I look or what others may think. I am utterly alone, untethered. My balance is off, the severed part of my foot no longer there to hold me, but I learn the new steps quickly, ignoring the pain. My lungs burn, rain flies in my face, my legs ache and my foot is a savaged piece of meat, but I press on. I’m punishing my body, angry at it for not being strong enough to get me through, for succumbing to weakness and starvation and wounding. It is only a husk of the real me, deep inside, the Ashley who isn’t done living but whose body can’t keep going.