Tuesday, August 16, 2016

The Refuge of a Fugitive

Most of my life I have been on the run. From a past or myself, I am not exactly sure which or even if there is a difference between the two.

Phases of my life flit past, people coming and going, venues and abodes of the heart replenishing every few seasons or years.

I don't even know if maybe I am consciously causing this, an escape that I still yearn for and never find. Every time I find someone to call my own, somehow they elude and slip away from my grasp. Or is it me who leaves the warmth of the bed of attachment, sliding out from the sheets of emotion in the cold moonlight to carry on my own way with a sigh of relief?

Have you ever wondered what it might mean to one day actually settle down, really set the foundation to a life that isn't temporary, and completely at peace with oneself? To not keep pace with a ticking clock, or other people's needs or requirements or expectations. To be able to finally have the courage to say "No", and turn around and go back to that one last regret and pick it up and dust it off and claim it again as your own?

Maybe each time I look at an image of myself or look at myself reflected in someone else's eyes, maybe I can really find myself in the way I never could with a head in the clouds.

Maybe each time I braced myself for the explosion that was inevitable with every relation, maybe I had in brutal honesty anticipated it, knowing that that last shred of love would diminish and that by casting me off from their own lives, they were only proving to me what I had always secretly known: that I was not worth holding on to.

But sometimes that reflection in someone else's eyes are what haunts you for the rest of your life. Because for once maybe you were not looking at your own reflection in their eyes, but actually getting lost in that very familiar aspect, seeing them look at their own mirror image in yours and contemplating when would be the best time to run.




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