Running wouldn’t help you’d still be yourself. So much noise inside that mind. The never ending urge to flee as if a change of scenery would magically erase all of the trash inside your brain. Head and heart at odds with each other, waging a war where your soul is the prize. The disconnection wears on your bones because you’re carrying the weight of the broken pieces of your past. Tumultuous, turbulent, treacherous- your brain is a minefield, one thought can send you into a spiral igniting all the rage you hold inside before exploding into a million tears. Tears that cut to your core, a knife to your heart over and over again. Falling apart has become an art- so skillful you are at losing yourself behind closed doors just to emerge moments later as if nothing happened. They talk of strength, they talk of bravery but what choice do you have? You cannot allow the darkness to break you beyond repair.
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