Day 1,175

Publish Date: May 4, 2026

There’s a scene in Forrest Gump where he just starts running. No plan. No destination. No explanation.

He runs across towns, across states, across years—until one day, he just stops. People tried to understand it. Some thought he was chasing something. Others thought he was running from it.

But maybe it was never that simple.

My Run

It started on a day that was supposed to mean something. A day tied to love. To connection. To something shared.

Instead, it became a marker—not of what was, but of what wasn’t. I didn’t understand it then any more than I do now. I’m not sure I ever will.

So, I did the only thing I knew. I ran after what I wanted.

Somewhere along the way, I realized something I hadn’t said out loud. I wasn’t just running. I was running towards a version of what I believed in. Love or friendship it didn’t matter. Probably the way Forrest felt about Jenny.

That feeling that keeps going—no matter how far behind it falls.

I Love you. I know.

She kept running forward…and I kept running behind.

At first, it didn’t look like running. It looked like trying to make sense of something that refused to be understood. Replaying conversations. Rewriting endings while searching for something I might have missed.

Over time, the distance became greater. Not only from her but from the version of myself that existed when she was a part of it.

But one thing remained…

Clarity

There is still no truth. Had I been running toward her for clarity to move on? Or was it for the sake of love and friendship?

Sometimes answers stay far ahead of us, but we keep going. Just hoping for clarity and presence.

More pressing things were happening in my life as well. Real things. Heavy things. The kind of things that changes how you see time, health, and what actually matters.

When your world shifts like that, you start to understand how little control you have. Over people, outcomes and endings. So, I kept running not because I thought I’d catch her. But because standing still felt heavier. And it still does.

Broken Record

Forrest ran for three years, two months, fourteen days, and sixteen hours.

Long enough for people to believe it meant something, anything, and for them to follow. That’s where his story became bigger than his identity. He was helping people without even knowing it, until reminiscing with a woman at the bus stop.

That’s how my story started to. But mine was my therapist. I didn’t know where I was going after my third blog. I could’ve stopped along the way. But I ate in Boston and slept in Chicago. And even had a session with her from Minneapolis. I visited some other cool places I had never visited before too.

I just kept running, not coast to coast because the things I wanted to see on the other side, were things with her. And I wouldn’t do that to either of us.

By the time this is published, it will have been three years, two months, and twenty days. (February 14, 2023) Longer than Forrest ran. Which means somewhere along the way…I broke his record, but I would have rather not.

It really wasn’t running, it was trying to begin anew in small, quiet ways. Yet meeting the same silence over and over. Like something that was never meant to start again—no matter how gently I tried or what amount of love or care were left.

Three Years

Three years is a long time to carry a question. Long enough for seasons to change. For routines to change. For life to look normal from the outside.

But somethings torn on the inside don’t move at the same pace.

You can put distance between yourself and someone…and still carry them with you. I know firsthand. And I also know some people don’t stay in our life the way we expect them to. But they don’t leave either. They just continue on differently while the love still exists. That’s presence. and I’ve been living with that.

I’ve learned that it’s better having a ghost while you’re going tough times, than have nothing at all. I’ve quit trying to exercise it over a year ago.

She’ll just have to know … what I know.

If you’ve been here before, you know 3:16 was never just a moment. It is a series of them.

Some that happened.

Some that didn’t.

And some that never left.

This is one of them.

May the Fourth Be with You …

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May the 4th Be with You