Running and Coming Back

I was sitting in orchestra today, feeling absurdly sorry for myself, feeling as if I might just fall asleep at any moment. Music shouldn't be this way- it should be exciting and interesting and intellectual. But it isn't always. A lot of the time it's just a slog, especially when you're low on sleep and food and motivation. This is when I feel the intense urge to run. Run from the sad truth that something I dearly love is causing me so much pitiful, self-absorbed sadness. So I got up and went outside. The crisp air bit at my fingertips and my cold, wistful eyes. I ran, getting out of the great big prison cell of a classroom. And suddenly I wondered... why stop running? I did, however, because I was worried perhaps my skirt was riding up and some soccer boy behind me was judging me for being a messy, slutty, lunatic. Sometimes those things worry you. So I stopped. Fixed my hair, compiled my thoughts, took a breath, plastered a smile upon my tired little face and walked back into the music room. People glanced up, and as they did I blushed and giggled. Come onnn why!? Just get a grip and don't be self conscious! That's my goal for the next... lifetime? What makes you really mad at yourself? What makes you want to run? What makes you come back? I just like to think about those questions upon occasion.