i stand outside the door, my head pressed against it, my own tears scalding my icy hands as they fall on them. my breath comes in short gasps. Now what? Now where? What do i do now? Where do i turn? What have i done?
And, then the panic sets in. They'll never let me live. They'll never let me live. And, because i desperately want to for the first time i can remember... i run. And, some part of me would always run.
Some part of me still runs. And, often i get twitchy and have to fight the desperate urge to just pack up and flee. i think i will need to run the rest of my life.
