Running away.
I’m trying to decide how many times I’ve run away.
Does it count when you ask for help?
Does it matter if you’ve been kicked out — but only a little — but you take the opportunity to flee?
Is it real if you have somewhere to run to?
Depending on your response, I’ve either run away three times — or not at all.
I’m only just now thinking of this, because I’ve always wanted to flee, to recreate myself, to found a new life.
But it never works out how you think.
Typically, when you go away, you’re burdened with the same old.
You’re the same person, no matter what.
But now I’m in a new place. And I’m not the same.
I’m not running. I’m catching my breath.
Writing. Whatever I want.
