The sun rose over the desert mountains. The last time I was here was when you promised to never leave again so I took you back. I'm riding my bike on an empty rode. The golden purple of the desert skies is as deep as the road goes on. I stopped riding and put the bike on the side of the road. I reached inside my side sack to look for matches and my sticks. A whirl of exhaustion flooded in my body. My head spinning. I dropped my bag and everything in it spilled all over the dirt.
I fell unto my knees to make the world stop turning too fast.
Another sleepless night, going on day two, of what is a weekly pattern finally caught up to me. I began dry heaving as memories of you made my heart race and my mind kept spinning. The desert heat and dryness was increasing. I couldn't move.
I laid on the ground, cramped, like an abandoned piece of scrap.
Weakness couldn't even compare to what my body was processing. It was giving up.
I was giving up.
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