Run.

This should be enough to cover up my faults.
This should be enough to wake up not feeling any loss and incomplete.
But It's not. No. It's not enough. It was never enough.
The loss. The Smiles. The Laughs. The Tears. The Jokes.
It's all so carefully crafted.
Like those screen films that are carefully written, edited & rewritten.
Just to have a great happy story.

This.. This is no story.
This is real.
Like waking up in a mad circus of mad clowns. Mad Freaks.
Scary as you think about it over & over again.
It's like everything disintegrates into small tiny particles of dust.
And all of the sudden you feel the threatened & you run. Run. and run.
You never stopped running. Because you feel threatened. Because you are afraid.
And that was me, a long long time ago.
I stopped now. Although, I do run, sometimes.