Sometimes, I feel lost... I'm literally lost in my neighborhood

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Excuse the mistakes

Picture on the side is Dane

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“I’m done!”

I dropped the stack of unfolded cardboard boxes on the floor of the living room and put my hands on my hips triumphantly. Then, I walked into the kitchen where my dad was unpacking some plates and cookery, and I leaned against the island.

“I finished unpacking my bedroom,” I said, and my dad glanced over at me from where he was standing and a cupboard.

“Already?” he asked, and I nodded happily. “Damn, Kelsey. That was fast.”

“I know,” I replied with a shrug. I didn’t have any homework from school, other than an English reading which I could save for before bed, so I just unpacked without stopping. It wasn’t hard since I’d already unpacked half the clothes getting ready this morning.

“You want to help me finish the kitchen?” my dad asked, and I blanched. After unpacking my bedroom like a madwoman, no part of me wanted to continue onto the kitchen. No offense to my dad, but it was the most unappealing thing that I could think of doing.

“Uh,” my voice trailed off as I searched for an excuse, “I was actually, um, going to go for a…run! I was going to go for a run!” I smiled, thankful that I’d come up with a viable excuse.

“Were you really?” my dad replied, giving me a doubtful look.

“I’m seriously offended that you think I would use an excuse to get out of helping you,” I stated, turning my nose up, “Now, I’m going to go change and exercise because it’s good for you!”

“Wow,” my dad commented, suppressing a smile, “I’m so sorry that I doubted you, sweet daughter of mine.”

“You should be,” I huffed, and then I turned and stomped dramatically from the kitchen. I could hear my dad laughing after me, and I cracked a grin as I hopped back up the stairs and into my room. I flopped onto my messily made bed and let out a groan.

The problem with using running as an excuse to not help my dad was that I actually had to get off my ass and do it. Personally, I hated running. I had a hard time getting the motivation to go, and about ten minutes into a run, I got cramps in my side and once in a while, I would get lost. However, I really didn’t want to keep unpacking for the rest of the day, so running was my other option.

Reluctantly, I slid off my bed like a slug and rummaged around in my newly filled dresser until I came across a pair of Under Armor leggings. I grabbed an old tournament shirt and a sports bra, and then I changed out of my school clothes and into my running ones. I located my worn sneakers at the bottom of my closet, and I pulled them onto my feet.

I pulled my hair up into a tight ponytail at the crown of my head, and then I tucked my phone, which also served as my iPod, into my sports bra. I grabbed some headphones and then headed back downstairs.

“I’ll see you later,” I called, and I heard my dad grunt in reply. I laughed to myself and then hurried out the front door. I plugged my headphones in, dialed up “Spark” by Fitz and the Tantrums, and after taking a quick moment to stretch, I took off down the street at a light jog.

Once I got past the first couple of minutes of my jog, where I started to think it was a bad idea, I felt a sudden burst of adrenaline. My legs didn’t feel like they were about to shrivel up and die, and my heart was beating to the time of my music. I was actually enjoying the run, which was a rare occasion.

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