I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know if what I’m doing is right or not. All I know is I want to make things right. Right for everyone involved. I want to fix things but I’m so afraid. Afraid of losing myself again. Afraid of allowing people to enter into my life. Afraid of loving so deeply when I’m trying not to. How is that even possible? Afraid of having people make the same mistakes I’ve made by running away. 

I know what it is like to run away. I run from pretty much anything that hurts me. Hence the reason for the wall I have erected to keep everyone out. I run from things I won’t or cannot face because it is easier at that moment in time to hide then it is to deal with the agonizing emotions and overwrought hurt of the situation. Running away means you can bury something so deep that it never comes up for air. You stand guard, ensuring its death as you pretend to be someone not marked with the paint of camouflaged pain.

I know what it’s like to runaway. To run from everything you love and cherish because you think you are doing what is right for those involved. You make excuses to mask the real danger – the love in your heart. You create a shelter buried so deep into the ground that no one, not even those closest to you, understand that it is there. The shelter houses shelvings of wants, needs. It shelves the thirst of honesty and commitment. It shelves jars of the past and the present. You refuse to shelve any future because the future you want you run from. Hidden underground, in the cool earth, a fiery heart in pain.

I understand the need to runaway. Like the feeling of an eaglet taking its first jump from its mother’s nest. The feeling of the air hitting your face feels like freedom. The curvatures of the wind under your wing feels like the free rein of an indulgent life. You can feel your legs under you for the first time as you soar into the unknown to disguise the known feelings of love and loss. I understand the need to runaway in hopes to turn from a simple eaglet to a soaring powerhouse of a bird of prey showing only the eyes of once was without the allowance of what can be.

I feel the need to runaway. Not as far but as deadly. I feel the need to be encompassed by the rocks of a familiar shore, to feel the sun radiate its warmth over my body. I feel the need to runaway. Not to hide but to protect. I feel the need to shelter the habitat of hard work, to feel the foundation of a water home built with grit be stabilized. I feel the need to runaway. Not to find independence but to reinforce stability. I feel the need to be unselfish and fight for the injustice of inaccurate understanding of natures thoughts and feelings. I feel the need to runaway. Not to be reckless but to be safe. I feel the need to be the mamma bear watching a cub from their sleuth get to close to the edge, ready to save the day. I feel the need to runaway. Not to run from myself but to prove to oneself. I feel the need to prove it will be ok.