Summer is dying. It's a hot night in New York. You'e trudging along the sidewalk; the pavement sticks to your feet. You're stuck in the quicksand of your mind. You're floating on a daydream: everything's hazy. Stoplights don't mean anything; horns from taxis become white noise. The fluorescent lights that personify New York, that make it breathe -- they're just all one wave of neon after another.
You may be walking, but you know you're running. All you're looking for is a way out. You're trying to find it. Your escape. Wherever you are, you're always looking for the back door -- you're at dinner with friends, you spend the whole night eyeing the EXIT sign. It's always a tempting option, just leaving.
When it comes to relationships you're kind of a pyro -- burning bridges and all that. There's something oddly satisfying about it. Your body fumes with a sense of power. You push away the people that love you as far as possible. It's only logical -- they're the ones who matter the most. You're trying to erase them from your mind, trying so hard to forget how much they actually mean to you, but the amount of effort you put into forgetting them just makes your brain tick with loneliness.
You end up becoming your own worst enemy; sabotaging yourself.
We're all pros at putting up those gates, we've all been hurt before. We've programmed ourselves to burn the bridge before we can even build it.
If I just don't trust anyone, I'll never be hurt.
It'll be months -- maybe years -- until you actually realize how much you care about these people and how much they care about you. They're the people in life who are rare, so rare, that when you find them -- or rather, they find you -- you need to hold onto them.
Because when you leave them, when you're running and not even looking back, all you'll end up with is this gaping hole in your stomach and your chest. The sense of loss, without those people in your life, will creep onto you at the weirdest times. You say you don't miss them, as the hole in your stomach gets bigger and bigger.
It's hard because it's just so easy to run away.