Round and Round Again

It's depressing, that this has all come back down to this.

Me, running for freedom in the middle of the night.

Running away from yelling and unfair accusations, running away from the inability to get a word in edgewise and the knowledge that even if I do, it doesn't matter at all.

It's funny though, how things come somewhat full circle, but it's so different.

I didn't run to the safest place I could find, the predictable place, the place where I was unsure if anyone would answer the door and let me in.

I ran to a pretty dangerous place, an unpredictable place, a place that I knew I'd be allowed in, despite everything.

They were the same place.

Her house.

So surreal, seeing how completely I've been replaced. And yet, it's still incomplete. Because I had too big of shoes to fill. I left a gaping hole in the tapestry of that whole... thing. And they tried to fill it up with going all out, overdoing, overcompensating. And they still came up short.

It's a bitter type of amusement. This whole situation is.

And I don't regret a thing. Isn't it strange? You'd think I'd regret something, anything. But I don't. I don't regret a thing...

Perhaps I am simply too tired to care. Or maybe I really don't care.

If anything, this whole experience has solidified my no-regrets thing.

But I just want to put it out there, because I need to tell someone- I wasn't a mess. I didn't broke down. I was happy, for the most part, this time around.

But it doesn't mean that I wasn't sad, that I didn't care, that loneliness and despair and disappointment wasn't about to crush me any moment.

I just... ignored it. I pushed it away whenever I felt it. I occupied myself with other things.

So... There's a difference between being happy/bold/nonchalant/strong and pushing things away constantly so they don't hurt you as much.

Just as you can't describe exactly what loneliness feels like, you can't describe this kind of thing.