I never thought about running away from home as a child. Ever.
Why can’t people just say what they mean, and do what they say they are going to do? Why does the world have to be so complicated? Why are there so many liars and cheaters? Why can’t there be one single day of my adult life that feels easy? Did I do this to myself? Do I expect too much? That is a question I ask myself often.
If I am good, and kind, and loving, and honest, and faithful, why are there people in my life that aren’t like that? That aren’t like me. Quite a few people. A lot of people, actually. Do I excise them all? Is it really that difficult to keep promises? Is it really that difficult to follow through? Is it really that difficult to be kind?
I know these are all rhetorical questions, but there are days when I literally want to go away. It has been suggested that I take a break. That I do go away. This sounds like a very good idea to me but I don’t often do it. I think the reason I don’t, is because I am afraid I will never want to return. The coming home becomes the hard part.