The Chasers

Why do I run from the very people who care about me the most? I don't know... -if you're somehow reading this, know that I'm sorry. You've been calling, stretching and reaching out. All the while I've been falling away, running off, and hiding, when the very things I'm hiding start creeping out. How can I let them chase me in worry, while I'm in such a hurry, chasing after the flurry of my folly? This isn't just silly, it's stupid. What's wrong with me? I've been told to stop asking myself that question... ‐by the very people who's concern for me comes without question. The same that aren't just willing to, but ACTUALLY DO accept me... ‐filling voids I never thought possible. Sure, not every hole is filled, but they're people I can talk to without being billed. What are you doing? I ask the mirror in front of me... ‐watching my reflection wither, everyday that I make such choices. Everyday, do I question which voices to and not listen to, while avoiding the very few that are willing to help me see what is and isn't true... -because I fear what they will see, if they were to see into me. What's wrong with you? I ask the mirror in front of me. They've told me to stop asking myself that question too... -the chasers, we'll call them. One of these days I'll call them, in confession and apology. …or, maybe just a text, if that'll do. I don't mean to run away from you... ‐I say I love you, only to turn my back and sprint away to the hole I'm always hiding in. If you're reading this, somehow, know that I'm sorry. Sorry I ghosted all of you... ‐if it makes you feel any better, I've been ghosting myself too... I know that doesn't but...

I hear footsteps...

"Hey! Who are you talking to in there?!…"

No one... I was just thinking out loud. Sorry.

"Whatever... Someone's at the door for you."

What?...

To Be Continued.