Running Away

I have perfected the art of running away. Not literally, but metaphorically. Whenever an emotion surfaces that makes me uncomfortable, I will push it down as hard as I am able to. I will hide it as far away from my consciousness as I can. I have lived, mostly, without commitment of any sort. Responsibility has been heaped upon me, not always through choice, but I have evaded commitment as much as I can.


The benefit of running away is obvious – it provides you with a space to breathe; consider options and re-group if needed. It gives you valuable time to decide what you will do next.

It also gives other people time. Time to worry about what the bloody hell you’re playing at, where you are, if you’re ok, and wondering what, if anything they can do to help.

Being the person that runs away is easy. Being the person who waits for your return is painfully hard.

I like to ignore things that make me uncomfortable. It’s a common theme in recent posts, as it’s the one I am trying to address, regardless of its difficulty, and eventually I will have to address that, despite my determination not to. It can be easier for me to ignore questions about how I am feeling, ably deflecting the question back and distracting the questioner from what they are asking. My assumption is always that I am so unimportant that they will welcome the opportunity to not have to listen to what I have to say. Surely they are only asking out of politeness, so I can mumble “fine” and continue on with other things. Everyone loves to talk about themselves, directing the question back to them neatly sidesteps the monotony and boredom of listening to my response. It’s easy because really, no one cares about much apart from themselves, their own parochialism, their own ideas of life and how it should be lived, right?

It’s not true you know. Some people do care. I won’t ask how you are unless I want to hear the answer, unless I have the time to sit with you, and worry with you, and make you a tea and to heap you with platitudes or tell you you’re a fucknut. I won’t offer to help unless I can, unless I want to, unless I am prepared to do what I offer or what you need.

However hard you run, however far – the problem is still there. It takes courage to stop, it takes courage to run, but often it takes more to stay where you are and sort out the problem. . We become engrossed in the mundane, so much so that we can’t see the special qualities of the ordinary and the every day, that which is before us.

The world is a beautiful place, we just forget sometimes, and it can often take very little to make us remember that.