The endless escape
I need to step out of it. Time is running out.
I wake up tired, tense, torn between the desire and the fear of being chained to the ground and forced to take action.
No matter what, I always find my way out.
If it’s a broken heart, I run into a drink.
If it’s a lover’s squabble, I run into silence.
If it’s boredom, I run into mindless consumption.
I never stay and face reality. The emptiness is eating up my soul more and more each day. I run away from myself.
The narrative I’ve construed about my character keeps revealing itself in all the places: a guilty, weak shell of a young woman, gifted with a life that she can’t handle.
Every feeling is too much, any job is too hard, each person is too distant for me to deal with.
I cry, I pout, I yell about all that I’m missing, and of all that I secretly keep at arm’s length.
I need to step out of it. Life is running out.