I know these trails

like I know

the back of my own hand.

But the back of my hand

was never something I

really

paid attention to.

Someone else-- maybe an artist

or a piano player,

they might know the way my hands look better than I do.

It probably would've been smart of me

to ask for directions

before deciding to embark on a spontaneous hiking journey in the woods.

I can't remember

why I decided to leave the comfort of my room.

"God, I hate the sun," I mumble.

I reach into my bag and grab a twizzler to keep my mouth occupied.