I always return to running away whenever life gets too much or too complicated
because that’s something I know how to do.
Ever since I was 14 I would sneak out in the middle of the night and start running
to the darkest corners I knew I weren’t allowed to go to
not caring that my mother threatened to call the police or kick down doors.
I would run as far as my feet would take me, run until my lungs burned,
until the pain became unbearable and the world started spinning around me.
The further I was away from home the colder got my body,
I was freezing and my fingers would turn blue but I didn’t care
and just went on.
I would run until there were no tears or emotions left in me despite the pain
and wouldn’t come back until someone found me or I was close to collapsing.
Today I still run, I walk away from home silently, without a warning,
because old habits die hard, and some things will never change,
and because I need this burning pain after all.