“What are you running from?”
The world.
So far from the world that I possibly can.
Run so fast the world can’t keep up.
Run so far from every decision I’ve ever made that they cease to exist.
Run until I can’t feel the wind anymore.
Run until I float, & feet no longer touch the ground.
Life feels easier when I’m alone, when the only thought I have is about myself.
Selfish is the only thing I want to be.
To not care.
I miss the quiet.
The silence within existence.
Last night I sat at my dinner table, holding the last two grapes in my bowl.
I popped one into my mouth and my teeth ripped through its skin.
What am I doing?
Where am I going?
What do I want?
I had no idea.
The mushed grape lay still on my tongue.
My brain stopped.
No answers.
I always have answers.
But in that moment I felt defeated, as if nothing mattered anymore.
I gave up on the grape.
I sat frozen as my eyes began to water.
I wanted to give up.
I wanted to call it quits.
I just want to run away.
Then came the final thought: make it stop.
Feel nothing.
Collect yourself.
Move on.
I dried my tears, ate the last grape, and washed the bowl.
I turned off the lights, lay on the couch, and waited for the darkness to come.
Oh, how I’ve come to love the night.
I pushed my feelings deeper and deeper, waiting for them to disappear.
I thought about which vice might numb me for a while.
I wanted someone to save me.
Someone to hug me.
I wanted my mom.
I wanted someone to tell me everything would be okay.
I wasn’t okay.
And I didn’t feel like I ever would be.
So I ran away.
I got in my car, pulled off as fast as I could, stopped at a gas station, and bought a pack of Camel Crush menthols.
I chain-smoked while playing the saddest songs I could find.
I drove for an hour along random backroads in Maine until I reached the ocean.
I parked by the shore, climbed onto a balcony with a rocking chair, and sat.
Above me, the stars stretched wide.
The Milky Way glowed.
I smoked two more cigarettes.
The cold air stung as the water hit the rocks below.
I stared at the sky and prayed to feel better.
I begged for someone—anyone—to help me.
No one came.
So I stayed.
Until every thought ran off
and I felt absolutely nothing at all.
“What are you running from?”
I’m running from having to feel anything at all.