She wanted to run.
She wanted to run and run and run; until the tightness in her chest burned, until her head pounded, until her legs gave way beneath her.
She wanted to run;
Outrun the regret, the impossibility of undoing what she'd done.
She wanted to run away, so that, honestly, she wouldn't be running away.
But she also wanted to stay,
Except staying, meant running away from herself.
She's staying, planning out her schedule, writing out To Dos.
She figures she'll find the happy middle;
The spaces she needs to crawl into for things to make sense.
But then, it gets changed-
All of it.
And really, there's nothing she can do. After all, she chose to stay.
She chose to stay.
Didn't she?
So she'll do it-
Full-powered work. On a day she'd really much rather not.
But you see,
When she chose to stay, she chose to stay in this life.
"This is real life," she'd said to herself after her meeting that first night.
And she chose it.
She chose it over you.
So really, it can't possibly be so surprising that this came up, can it?
But oh,
Then why, why does it hurt so much?
Why does it feel like she's giving you up all over again?
And why does it feel like something inside her is ripping itself apart,
Over and over and over again,
When all that's happening,
Is the real life she signed up for in the first place?
every inch of my skin,
Is crying for your hands
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