I've run away before.
Not for an overly good reason.
But because I didn't know what else to do.

I had no ID, no licence, no accessories.
Nothing that could possibly describe who I am or what I've done.

So I ran.
I went to the end of the block and turned right...
And the right again.
And again.

I ran around a block, but still ran in a circle.

Back to where I started.

My mouth dry, legs weak, heavily breathing and sweating out the 15th fever this week, and it's scary to not have a justifiably good reason to be here or to run off.

I want to scream until singing is a lost memory but I would not do that here. Not when I still have enough energy to cry.

And I do cry.
More than I should.
More than anyone should ever have to.

Running in the middle of the street not even close to being scared of the cars speeding down the pavement.

And yet, there are no cars on the road.
Open.
Empty.
Nothing.

I do want to disappear sometimes.
But I wouldn't do that now.
My suffering is already a public hanging nobody watches.

I ran away.

And I would run out of the city and never return.

The only problem is...

The only place I was ever taught to run to...

Was home.

And even that doesn't seem to exist anymore.

So where can I go?

It's raining.

You have to let me feel this okay?

And ******* if you think that we are getting better.
We're not.
You're not.

Everyone is sick of hearing about this.
Why can't you drop it?

Because it means something right?
I've fought for this.
I deserve a better ending than this.

You coward.
You've done nothing but run.
You can't keep work on track to save your life.
Everything has gone awry and you can't help but watch from the sidelines.

What the hell are you doing?
Pick yourself up and be happy like everyone tells you to.
Nobody wants to be around someone who makes them feel as sad as they are.
Your emotions are ******* contagious.
Why are you doing this to yourself?

It would be so easy to just be happy like everyone else.

But no, you decide to be a ******* and be stubborn about it.

Stop it.
STOP IT!

I don't deserve this.
Give me something else.

I will not drive myself to the edge by standing on one higher than most of my hopes.

Don't give me what can happen.
I want good and I want it from somewhere I can't comprehend.
I want my life.

Don't you?

Nobody gets what they want.

Stop.

Where are you?

Stop it.

You are ******* unbelievable.

Don't.

You're sick and susceptible to getting even more sick the more you haul your body around. You act like you're drunk, and you don't even care.

I do care.

Act like it.

I do.

*******.

Nobody suspects what they can't bring themselves to see.
You don't even want help do you?
You just want this pain until you're nothing but that.

I WANT TO GO HOME..

I want to go home...

Have you been writing suicide notes again?

No.

Don't end them with "I'll be home soon".

I don't.

I don't end them because I'm not finished here.

I don't want this.
I don't need this.

YOU HAVE TO LET ME FEEL THIS.

Please.

Do not make me guilty for crimes I didn't even know existed.
People have done worse things.
And yet they get second chances all the **** time.

Where are you?
Stop it.

Who are you kidding? You're nothing.

You can't decide if you want to suffer or make others suffer for what they did to you. So instead you complain like a ***** and nothing gets done.

Why can't you just accept what happened?

Because it meant everything to me.

And nothing has happened to acknowledge how much this changed my life in the worst way possible.

Stop chasing me.  

You know I can't do that.

Haven't I already paid for all of this?

Yes?

So what gives? Something has to.

Or someone.

I already have.

And I'm ready to go home.

Shut up and listen to me.

I am, and always will be broken.
I've changed, everyone changes, that's life.
I am a cynical, overtired, crying mess and that is the most beautiful thing I can say about myself right now.

Classic, I know.

I can't love myself yet.
But I do not need to right now.

Let me feel this pain for what it is and let it drag me through the cement until I freeze in my despair.

I will come back when they drill me out of my shock.

But as for my presence, I left that at home.
And I left home with someone else, and someone else took home on a backpacking journey with "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey blasting through their senior year headphones.

I left home, and home left me, what is the difference? Can't you see I'm struggling to know where my home is.

I need to pick back up, and when I do home will come back to me.

Because shouldn't home be here?

Shouldn't I be here?

Home should be with me, I should be with me, I should BE, I should see the presence of God and be present in awe of that.

I should be home.

Home is with them, and they are not with me.

Home should be mine to have, and theirs to rent.

Home should be here.
Home is me.

Home is here.

HOME is HERE.

Home is here **** it.

HOME IS HERE!



Hip hop and punk rock played its way out of my playlist when they paid their last rent and left for a new house.

Home is empty.

The house is mine now.

Home is mine.
Home is me.

Home is here.

There will be days when I want to be alone more than I want your help.

Sometimes I won't even think I need you around. I won't want your help.

I don't do this to hurt you.
I know it does anyway.

Just..

Wait for me.
I'll come around when you aren't waiting on me.
Wait for me.

There will be days when the past and my depression will be taken out on you. And I won't be able to stop it. I'm sorry.

Lately I've been trying to avoid apologies. Mostly because I've heard too many of them over the months.

I've changed.
Accept it. Because it's fact.
I didn't want to change.
But what else was I supposed to do?
Losing one of you was bad enough.
And if you're not careful, you'll lose me.

So heed my advice.

Wait for me.
Don't ask me when I'll be there.

I know in another life I wouldn't tell you this.

But that was before everything changed.

I no longer feel guilty for leaving people to wait.
Only because other people don't feel remorse about what happened to me.

People left me to wait.
Wait for what?
Nothing.

People picked out and left.
Rightfully so.

So I leave people to wait...




See?
Until I feel guilty enough.
Until I feel the guilt that others couldn't feel for me.

I need expected them to.

You need to understand that I am a good person.
Despite what I will eventually say.

Despite what they will say...

I'm not a bad person.

At least, I hope not.

...Wait for me.
Please.

We are, according to society and this grand world that we live in: Nothing.

Compared to the greatest of Gods and vastness of universes, we are not even able to completely understand how we are not even the dust in the wind.

How we might matter so little to the world.
And at the same time, how little the world can matter to us.

But what about us?

What about us is so special?

Why do we fight for our legacy? Why do we try so hard that it hurts? Why do we care?

Well...

Why the hell not?

It is just so easy to disregard that as an answer?

Maybe the reason, we don't accept "why not?" as an answer it because it's so simple.

It is so easy to just say that something is because well.... it is!

But we overcomplicate that. We try to justify everything in its complexity and we find plot holes, or evidence of a crime, something to praise or blame for the answer to "Why?".

I stopped asking that question simply because there isn't a point to asking a question you already know the answer to.

So again, now that I know why we do things the way we do...
What is so special about us being like that?

I see you, you know.
I see everything.
I pay attention to the small things.
And I write about the details when you don't care to notice them yourself.

I do this in order to earn the title of "Poet" but I don't have the goods to back it up yet.

Yet...

I see you.
And I also see us.
I see the suffering that we go through, and try to make sense of it.
I see a car, and picture the destination.
I see a sign, and imagine the paint still drying.
I see myself, and I am left speechless at what could've happened to me, and what I was lucky enough to get, assuming that I got something good.

And I mean, that's true because I had you for a time.

Promises can be empty.
Friend circles can be full.
Text messages can be messy, but I can translate.
And my words will always make absolutely no sense.

You are everything.
And so am I.
We can not be insignificant, or overlooked if we are this present.

Your smile could probably build another universe where we aren't so small in comparison to everything.

And I will never overlook that.

Because every good thing about us is still true.
Why?
Like I told you, it exists... it is.

So... why not?

I would still apologize.
But I would ask why it was so easy for her to leave me.

I would ask...

Can't you just...

Stay?

Please...

Don't leave me.
Again.