fight or flight, always fleeting

my fleeting sense of nature always gets in the way.
i never voice it to anyone who should know, but i did.
last night laying under the old quilt.
stumbling.
i talked about my fleeting sense of nature and how nothing ever works out,
i put up my warning sign,
my caution.
rambled about how i can picture myself, in reality.
i'm never that real with people, i never ever ever talk about it.
just how he can't see himself in tennessee under those tents -
we're both afraid?
neither of us fight
we run
and keep running
and one day run right back.
i always run directly back to home base.
it's always after i feel unsatisfied, or after i feel like i need some safety.
but none of this matters
because it's all small things, in the end.
everything is tiny and impermanent.
we can all do something right,
it's just small.
we're all just tiny grains
running and bumping into each other when we actually think about it.
just little microscopic beings.
and if we're that small,
nothing else even matters.