No matter how stressful your situation, you can't escape it, or at least not expect other problems to arise. I've been running all my life. It is easy to run away from home, but not from your past. People are easy to become attached to: friends, family, or just faces you see routinely. But as I've grown older and colder, my heart has done the same, and now I am completely unattached, isolated.
I left at the age of 15 due to typical issues. My parents divorced, my father was a heavy drinker. I can't remember the last time he wore a genuine smile. It sickens me when I see the same disgraceful face in the mirror. The stress of school was piling up on my shoulders and I was on the brink of collapsing. I loved, and still love my mother dearly, but I wish she wouldn't have pushed education so hard on me. My brother was a saint. The sweetest little brother I could ask for, bearing an innocent child's heart, one I envy and hope he never loses. He was the hardest to say good bye to.
I ran to the city, where they all go. I went with intentions of building myself up to something big and becoming a somebody, but here I am, just like anyone else, another passing face on the street. Take one look at me and you can clearly see the scars life has left. The wounds, the bruises, the scrapes, and tears are all apart of who I am. I wouldn't change what I've done, but sometimes I wonder how I would've turned out if I never ran.
I miss the Sunday rain. I miss sitting on the porch with little Dylan, counting the geese. I miss his laughter and little hand grappling onto my thumb. I miss remembering the way he looks.
The city is far different from where I used to live, but when the clean, fresh, fallen rain hits, memories rush back and I am not alone. I am home again.
