It was far enough away to make me dread the journey, but not far enough to make me turn back.

Just looking ahead of me at the endless stretch of ground going on and on and on, makes my feet ache and my chest stitch, and I haven't even started yet.

I haven't even started.

I start walking if for no other reason then the want to get out of this place, I had no desire to stay where I was.

I hated it.

A couple of miles later I had lost my hat and my bag and my shoes.

I don't know where they went.

I can't remember.

Time passed.

A couple of hours, I don't know.

The sun was setting, it was darker.

My feet hurt and my head hurt and my lungs and chest hurt and I should stop.

But I didn't.

As bad as my legs hurt now they would hurt more when I stopped.

I kept walking.

I kept walking so I could focus on

The painful splintering of my feet and the spinning

Of my head the aching of my back.

If I kept my mind filled with these things there would be no more room.

No room for unbidden thoughts to flow into my mind.

If I stopped they would come.

I didn't want them to come; I didn't want to think about THAT.

Maybe I would never stop.