Okay, so—
I didn’t just walk out.
I ran.
Not in a cool, slow-mo movie way.
More like tripping over a slipper
and accidentally knocking over my own confidence.
From what?
Everything.
The noise, the drama, the people who say
“Can I give you some feedback?”
(Please don’t. I’m fragile.)
I ran from my to-do list,
from “urgent” group calls,
and that one aunty who asks
if I’ve “lost weight or just look sick.”
Honestly, both.
I ran when I saw my old teacher at the grocery store.
I ran when someone asked,
“What’s your 5-year plan?”
I barely have a 5-minute one
and it mostly involves snacks.
Call it immature—
I call it survival.
I didn’t pack much.
Just chips, a charger,
and a carefully folded blanket of denial.
No regrets.
Now I’m somewhere quiet,
where no one talks about promotions,
weddings,
or “what I’ve accomplished lately.”
Just me, my hoodie,
and a growing list of things I pretend don’t exist
This poem is a lighthearted escape anthem for anyone who's ever felt overwhelmed by expectations, social noise, or the constant pressure to "have it all together." It's funny, yes-but underneath the humor is that very real desire to just breathe for a minute without being watched, judged, or measured. If you've ever wanted to run from life just to hear your own thoughts again, this one's for you.
