runaway

The runaway runs from her problems not seeking a realistic solution. She runs away to find a guide someone to advise her in finding her way. She cant return, she doesnt follow. She leads and paves way into her own demise. Demise to others but a path of her own to walk. She paces and walks falling into the side ditches and causing memories to slide off her skin like water on oil. She holds her only possession once a teddy bear now just a head. She games every1 she knows because of the feelings of defeat that she doesnt want to trespass in empathy. She doesnt want you to feel her pain or happiness as she is selfish. She ran away to avoid conflict. To make them suffer. To live life alone. Alone. The runaway hurts in her own world. It is her intention not to let anyone in. Her guide only knows as much as they are told. And even then still a mystery to them and keeping them as far as possible, remaining skeptical. The runaway can run forever and never face her past. By running away she pushes her future forward. She is resilient. She holds no grudges but she knows her place is nowhere near home. What is home? The runaway cant answer. She led a life thru hell and back and finally gave up. Conflicted. She ran away. "When you runaway, you keep on running" they told her and thats exactly what she did. Everytime she settled, she packed and picked up her things and left again. She ran away far far away. Each destination dozens of miles apart. One day, she ended up in my town. She bumped into me in a store and looked at me very hard. I saw deep lines on her face, the ones that give ur age. She was no older than 19 at this point and she had the face of a 91 yr old senior. She walked away as she took in my perceptions of her. It hit her for as much as she ran and for as much as she hid, it always caught up to her. No matter how far she went, how long she was there. Her past always caught up. As she turned to me, before she made her ferocious exit, she said:

"what happens when you quit running, when all of the air has filled inside your lungs and you're trying to breathe but can't, you want to breathe but can't and the one you've been breathing for doesn't help, why keep trying, why not stop, it would be easier, everything would be so fucking easy if we'd just stop trying to breathe...I quit"

Shocked, following this girl's trails for so long, I couldnt say anymore, anything else. My words were at a loss, speechless.

All I could do was tell her "its alright. Youre okay. When it caught up to you, did u cry?"
She said, yes.
When it caught up to you, did u scream?
She said, yes.
When it caught up to you, did u react?
She said, I didnt even see it coming.
When it caught up to you, did u tell them all u needed to say?
She said, I could never do such a thing. Ever.
I replied, "simply, never say never. For the past will always bite u. Trust me I know. TELL ME. Let it out now."

She started,

"So I'm remembering to breathe, how to salivate out of lust, remembering the nights spent crying and the nights spent wishing I was dying. I'm remembering how to hold on to life because the way to live is to keep being a survivor. The way to survive is being resilient. Like a rubber band that becomes stretched after years of use, it never loses its strength. Instead of regaining it, it must be fueled. So feed me the fuel to keep my motor going cause I'm not going anywhere. As much as I'd like to run, I'm no one's bitch and unless I'm being chased, you won't see my legs moving faster than a horse's. So if you're saying fuck me, no, its fuck u. So goodbye 2 the memories and u 2."

She looked at me. Smiled. She knew I understood. While I knew it wasnt for me, she had finally faced her past. Whether I was part of it or not... didnt matter. She knew she meant every one word she said. She let go the weight of her shoulders and walked away. We take actions that we feel are correct. Some of us run, some of us stay. We know what we do and why we do it. Responsible for our actions. Not always. But we should be.