If I could write a 10 minute story

You'd find a way back into me. You'd take a small tour, take a pause at my stop sign. You'd try. Because in my 10 minute story, you're trying to find where I end. You might find a dead end, possible cul-de-sac. You'd want me to give you a shortcut, give you the directions to why the roads loop back together and around again. You find that you might want to see me again. You find the answers to mysteries and sugar coated truths. You keep alongside, you keep up and you keep track. You can't keep a lead, never get ahead, but you find you're okay with that. You're okay with my overpower, you're okay with me wanting to win. Gaining speed and the fast forward I tend to go. You seem okay with pick up pieces as I'm blazing through. The burn and grace and fear and heartache we will go through. If I can write this 10 minute story, you'd find that I'm really kinda simple as a side-note. You'd find I'd rather be somewhere in the trees. Hiding under leaves of green and somewhere by the water. Somewhere where it always rains, occasionally. I'd rather be in the sun, heat warming my face. You'd find me somewhere wherever I can be someone other than who I truly am. Demolishing self in words. Building and creating around who I want to be. Who I wanted. And that's okay, but not really. Because I can't seem to be the girl I want to be somewhere in the dusty sun where the sun meets my face and I'm giving the girl I am to the guy I want wholly, without regard to self and I can't seem to make my way back to that girl, loop around as I may, try, trying again, because he's just out of reach, to me, to myself, to the girl I want to be, to the girl I am, to the girl I'm trying to be. If I could write a 10 minute story, I'd put my fears aside, and I'd stop actually feeling this thing, and you'd get what you just got because 10 minutes doesn't give me enough time to be scared and rethink and build a rethought process. 10 minutes gives me just enough time to end. Here.