we dream of running - running far, running fast, running now. the mantra we repeat to fall asleep in our beds at night, surrounded by stuffed animals and pastel colors and the lace that makes us feel connected to the youth we never got to experience: anywhere but here.
we make dumb decisions over and over again. over and over. and over. because anywhere but here has to be better. bookcases stacked with fairytales, polaroids of landscapes we want to dream about, scrapbooks full of tiny reminders of the hope for elsewhere. when your childhood escapes you, you don't suddenly learn how to be an adult. instead, you're a child - more vulnerable than ever - imprisoned in a world that doesn't love you - doesn't care if you bleed. you don't know how to navigate it, but you can't leave. so you dream on, dream on.