the silence isn't empty, it's packed with everything you're avoiding, like all the almost-arguments dex and i didn't have and the tension that just settled in my jaw instead. the burn in my hamstrings finally feels like my jaw is tight. like i'm still arguing with something dex said, even though it was simple, something about pacing, the knowing is a map; the doing is the actual, muddy, uphill climb, boots slipping. and the map never tells you how heavy your legs will feel at mile 20, or how many times you'll want to quit. but that's not it, that's not why my jaw is tight, it's something else, something earlier, something… unspoken. the body remembers quitting long after the mind pretends it didn't.