When one tries to turn a new leaf, another is confused about the path that lays ahead,
that other is me.
There has been many a time I've wanted to runaway. Adolescence is a good era for that, dramatic disappearances, chaotic exits.
When your heart is broken, and you finally muster the strength to get out of bed one surprising morning, first thought is to get the hell of there and keep good distance of any possible bumping ins.
Arguments.
Fights.
Tickling.
Gaseous excretion in a public venue with good sniffing witnesses.
And yet, I'm older now, surely wiser, in love, arguments happen because we are human, can't be bothered to fight when I am this exhausted, am the master of tickling, and don't care if I am caught of excellent gas release...
...so why does it hurt so much that I can not run away. Is it because I can't as I am too busy? Is it because I have turned into a working robot? Is it because I miss my ma who's been away for 7 months? Possibly possibly.
Whatever it is, as much as I do love my job and am really happy with my own fashion line's progress, I can not fight the urge of just upping and leaving.
