It always seem so much better from further away. Every time I return, I remember why it was I so desperately wanted to leave. And every time I return, I dream of packing Ellie and my things and just running. Running away from all the burdens and reminders of all the problems and shortcomings of the past and the present, and running to peace and denial, to something new.
Maybe one day I'll run, but probably not. Maybe one day I'll find some place called home where I will actually want to stay. Maybe one day.
But probably not.
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