as a kid i remember peering inside the house from the windows,
(condensation from my breath all built up) my tiny fingers so cold i couldn't even bend them.
but, that was my choice...i was playing a game.
i was playing escape,
running away in my mind.
at that point as a child i wanted to be anywhere but inside that house.
its amazing what happens when you look at things from the outside.
you feel a bit detached.
also, it doesn't seem to hurt as much.
now, i'm going to say,
i know that's probably not the healthiest approach to things.
actually i'm quite certain, it can't be.
but, to be struggling as much as i did from time to time
sometimes it's all i could really do.
i watched myself, outside of myself
pretending that it wasn't me.
it wasn't me.
i ran away.
i've found myself doing that a lot lately, like when i was a kid.
things always seem very much surreal and unattached that way.
a bit cloudy, murky, and a lot more faint.
the pain of the memories and my dysfunction is sometimes overwhelming.
my whole life i've runaway.
in my mind and i would say sometimes even in my heart.
in a way my thoughts have always been detached.
i always wanted to spend my time thinking this thing didn't happened to me.
those memories and pain aren't mine.
and in the end, it hits me harder,
always.
