The Urge to Run

The urge to run was bigger than the urge to stay. I had so many reasons to run. , I always thought running never solved anything until one day it did. People say leaving is the hard part but it’s not. Knowing you can never go back is one of the hardest lessons you can learn. I don’t know where it all began. I know that I am not alone in this. I am not the first girl who desperately needed a way out and I know that I wouldn’t be the last. I genuinely felt like I had to run to undo my mistake. I had to try at least. Maybe there I would like myself and finally work on my mental health. Before he died he told me that if we can feel happiness we should be grateful. The more he isn’t here the more I want to run. I always used to say that I wouldn’t leave without him but I can’t stay here without him. It just doesn't feel right. I know too much about this city. Sometimes a city will tell you when it’s time to go.

I was trying to be the bravest person in that stupid city but it was too far gone. I lost the urge to live still. I didn’t want to die, I just needed out of that damn city. There's something so strange about the survivor's guilt. I know that I couldn’t have done anything but I still feel like it should have been me. He should be the one dealing with this. He would know what to do. I tried to stay but enough is enough. I knew that leaving was the only thing to do. I didn’t cry when I left at first but now that I know I can’t come back. I’m not entirely here. Half of me has disappeared. If me running away keeps me alive what is the harm in that? Running away isn’t always a bad thing. Running away can save your life. The Hardest part was leaving behind my friends and family. But I promised myself that I would never go back. That the worst was over now. It’s okay to leave when the war is over. Even Though I left I still feel stuck there. It felt like everyone moved on besides me. Driving away I knew it was the end. I thought I felt this before, but that wasn’t the first time I ran away and it most likely wouldn’t be the last.

Ever since I was a child I understood why people purposely go missing. Even at 6, I knew I didn't want to be a burden. I think that the only way I will ever go back is for a funeral. I know that there is something else out there for me. The urge to run doesn't feel like a bad thing anymore. Leaving my friends and family was something that I was willing to risk. I wanted nothing more than to run away and never go back but something in me, wanted to stay. I couldn’t get rid of the ghosts. I hate ghosts but somehow my home is filled with them. The thought that I would be leaving people behind was killing me, staying in a place I knew I outgrew was also killing me. Its hard to leave something that was once your whole world. I loved the city that I grew up in; I just hated how sad the ending was. I really did love this place at least once I did. That has to make up for something.