Fail days

I was running away from something earlier. I don't know why.

I don't know why I always run away from things, or how I got this habit of running away. I run away from tight situations. I run away from culpability. I run away from the people I love, whatever love means. I remember hiding for shallow reasons, keeping everything in for deeper reasons - it's just that I always don't want it. I always don't want the things that I set out to get.

Regret? I'm not really sure. Disillusionment, perhaps, not knowing that what you want has all these strings attached. So they say you just wait and it'll come. And then, turns out, you'll have to get your ass out of your seat and start really doing things. Initiative and all that stuff. I could've done that. I did, actually, although it's with the more mundane things. The safer things.

Instead, I find myself running away, when it doesn't really mean much, whatever's bound to happen. And find yourself crossing the road at the snap of a finger, and realize that a car is on its way, and for a moment, you wonder whether it'll be close enough to hit you, or far enough to let you through, or barge its way through. And that familiar burning sensation, again.

The problem with being okay is, it won't stay that way.

And your responses...

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