There was a time, for about a year or so, where I would meet a wall of frustration every day. It would creep up on me slowly. Like a storm on the horizon, I could sense its presence. I could feel it coming.
The rumbling of its ominous dark clouds and electric strikes of lighting slowly but surely crawling my way.
I would do my best to outrun the outrunnable.
I tried ignoring it, covering over it with work, with conversation, with snacks, with endless hours of movies and shows. I tried to fix it, mend it, figure it out, get to the bottom of it.
With great resolve, I would whip open the door to my truck, turn over the engine, shift it into reverse, and speed out of the driveway. Determined to outrun it.
But I never could. Not for long.
Eventually, the frustration storm would find me.
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