Running away from my problems again, as usual.
I find comfort in the warmth of my soul,
the big, rugged arms of my emotions, rocking me ever so sweetly to sleep.
My heart is such a damaged and dangerous vessel,
it couldn't even hold water. I'm amazed I haven't bled out already.
Why do I go? Because if not there, then where?
I'm too smart to let myself find
solace in stupidity,
so not my brain, no, not in my thoughts.
It'd be too unpredictable to stay alive.

I sure as hell can't run to him.
Because HE doesn't love me.
Because HE doesn't care.
Because HE doesn't look at me with that wondrous look of interest and adventure.
Because to him...I'm just a toy.
I've been played with too many times and it's to the point where I'm just hurt and I'm sore, and I don't want to play anymore.
So I hide in my heart, the one place I know where it's safe.
The one place that still, foolishly, wants any part of him.
Why can't he find me in the place I run to every time?
Because he never for a ******* i n g second wanted any part of my heart...

...and his name was Brandon.