Horror Movies for Breakfast

I woke up today hating the world more than I did yesterday.

I cleaned the house, like usual, and made myself coffee.

Coffee and cookies were nice. I ate breakfast in bed, with my laptop open, crying.

I thought, 'I cannot believe I'm still capable of crying.' I've been feeling really shitty again, lately, and yet, I could not shed a tear. I went numb; I could not even cry. Today was different, though. I've been crying.

These past few months, I've been thinking of running away from the only place I once thought would always be my safety net. I've ran away from everything. It's nothing personal. I love them, deeply. It's simply because of who I am as a person.

I was quite a runner, you know. I did marathons, too. But not the athletic kind.

Whenever I felt like a place was starting to suffocate me, I developed a repressed urge to leave. Like I do at a party, with a job, or a toxic friend. I called it 'suffocating', instead of  'running away from responsibilities' or 'refusing to be an adult'. Because it sounded better. It felt better pointing fingers, despite knowing it was all you all along. Like they did in horror movies.

I shut my bedroom door so they would know I didn't want to talk.

I know, it's a bad feeling. I know I will also be the one to suffer the most, because I have been dependent of them for as long as I can remember. But maybe, it's the kind of suffering I need, so I could grow.

Or maybe not. Maybe I was just trying to dig more holes, because the holes I've created have become my norm, and do not affect me anymore.

My coffee was almost gone.

I've been lost for so many years, and I'm the one to blame. But it's so difficult to change when you think everything about you is what makes you awful. When you think it is your existence that causes all the sufferings. When you think there is only one way out, and it's not pretty.

I've just finished breakfast. It was good.

(painting by andie dinkin)