Runaway's Liberation

Chapter 1

I died three years ago and this is hell.

It was dark. My chest feels tight. I cannot hear anything except the rumbling noises that are grating on my ears. I cannot see anything but the darkness that surrounds me and a faint light coming from somewhere.

I looked up and realized it was the hazy full moon above.

Hindi ako makahinga.

I closed my eyes. I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper. Slowly... like the seconds are counting itself because I didn't care enough. Even as my body trembled from the cold, it was like I didn't care, like it's more that I longed for the depths to swallow me whole than wanting to get out.

I wanted more.

And I was clinging to the thought that somehow, I could cleanse myself in this darkness. That maybe... there's still hope for me.

But I couldn't take it anymore.

The pressure in my chest grew unbearable, as if my lungs were being crushed from the inside out. Parang pinipiga 'yung dibdib ko. I couldn't hold on any longer. I wanted to ask for help, but there's something on the back of my head telling me that I shouldn't—even though I knew that I really couldn't.

But with all these thoughts, I ended up giving in... that I had to breathe. My lips parted, desperately seeking air, but instead, water filled my mouth.

It was cold. And suffocating.

I was drowning.

I was dying.

Fleeing was never a matter of urgency in my life before. It wasn't something that ran deep within me. I never considered it. I've thought of it, but it never was enough to drive me. It wasn't enough... not until it became the only thing left for me to choose.

I couldn't even really choose.

There was no other choice...

I was once a happy child, content in my place, ready to fight for it in a world that I believed I belonged to. But over time, I've found myself falling short in every aspect: as a son, as a brother, as a student, as a man.

And simply as a person.

And I've always questioned myself for that. I've questioned myself more times than I can count. I couldn't even remember how many. I just knew, that after everything that happened, it all became clear to me.

That I was unraveling. That I was getting worse. That I never really knew how to be better. That everything... all of the things that I wasn't paying attention to, were the things that I couldn't face because I had a lot of shortcomings. Or maybe I was using those shortcomings because the truth is, I was just lost. I was just losing it.

When did it all start? When did I begin to think that escaping, running away, was the only solution to everything?

Hindi ko alam. Ang alam ko lang, gusto kong tumakas. Gusto kong mawala. Gusto kong maglaho. Gusto kong maranasan kung ano bang pakiramdam ng walang nakakakita sa'yo... at sa mga dumi mo.

There was a time when I clung to the belief that life was like a wheel—turning with its inevitable highs and lows, yet always moving forward. It was a philosophy that anchored me through every storm. It was something I held onto with quiet desperation. That wheel represented hope, the idea that no matter how deep I fell, I would rise again, that I could somehow outrun the darkness.

But I have come to learn that in the labyrinth of existence, nothing remains constant except the agony that binds us.

I have known suffering. It was so profound. And unrelenting. That it made me reach my crack. I was losing it. I couldn't gather myself. I was so out of it! I was getting insane. I was losing the soundness of my mind—and I knew, that if nothing stops it, I will surely fall in despair with nothing but the list of the things I should've done.