i'm a runner & a hider, baby.

i think ever since i can remember i've romanticized 'running away'. and i still do.

when i was little... about six, i distinctly remember this story i wrote in my english class. about being a girl running away and living in the forests and living on berrys and fruit and coming out of the forest and meeting her true love and being happy.

and i wrote stories about a little girl running away and taking a packed lunch and surviving on it and meeting kind strangers who helped her in every which way they could and she lived in the city and met fantastic people and knew things that other people would never know because they wouldn't take the chance to.

and as soon as school had finished, almost two years ago (fuck!), i began writing a story about a girl running away...

i just like the idea of a blank page. i always have. i always liked the idea of leaving school at sixteen, getting a red three door car, having boxes and boxes of books in the car boot, driving somewhere, anywhere, finding a crappy apartment, working a crappy job, meeting great people, smoking cigarettes, being my own person and just being happy...

and i don't think my ambition has matured much from that point. maybe it's just something i should do. i mean, god knows doing what i'm doing now isn't making me happy.

a lot of the time i don't think there's a place for me in this world. i find it so painstakingly difficult to relate to people in real life that i have to rely on relating to fictional characters.

and the two characters i've ever related to the most ran away when they found themselves in a situation like i'm in right now. just a myopic monolithic grey mass. of nothing. there's no reason to stick around no reason to do anything. everything's so mediocre. i just feel like i want my life to speed up a lot.

but i also think i'm secretly never going to be happy