I suck at Snapchat.

Today, I put on my hiking boots and messed up a Snapchat story. I drove 60 miles, missed the turn and changed direction. Throughout the drive, I scanned the treetops for movement; I saw the wind.

I stopped at the side of the road and looked out at the Mad River. The water is so clear up North, I always forget that. I tried to redeem my Snapchat story and held my phone in the air, pushing the red button to record the clarity rushing by. I followed the wave of the trees.

The upload failed. Everything does at 1x.

I arrived at the trailhead, an overflowing parking lot in the woods. Teenagers strapped on bags. Radio Lab was up next on New Hampshire Public Radio.

I thought about how often I say I’ll do something and then don’t. The paralysis of sitting in the college classroom, wanting to raise my hand so badly. The answer growing small and hard, the doubt darkening my mind like a slow and steady rain.

Hands on the wheel, I felt the answer grow hollow and float. I wanted to hike, but not today. I didn’t want to experience the surprise of crowds, the slapping wind. I could drive on, listening to Radio Lab.

I decided to let it all go. What I should be doing, what I wanted. The pools of rain rising in my mind. When was the last time you took a day for yourself? Where you didn’t need to feel productive?

I spend a lot of time worrying, growing scribbles in my brain, my stomach, my shoulders. I’m good at it, if not proud.

Sometimes I sit on the floor so nothing is at eye level. I sit in the corner, my back divided and the room opens up so it’s the biggest it’s ever been. I find comfort in a familiar place made new. There’s the hint of possibility there, my body on a tilt.

Today, the sky is a pale blue, not unlike the Mad River. The clouds don’t think I see them moving.