I used to think that running away is a selfish and cowardly act. How can someone turn their back on everyone? How can someone leave like they don’t care about the people they’re going to leave behind? How can they just toss the life they used to have? Why is it so easy for them to turn their back then go on with life after?
Why do people run away when things seem to go wrong?
I used to wonder about it until I put myself in a situation where running away seems like the best option. So here I am, packing my clothes, ready to be that coward.
Slide into my DMs if you want me to teach you how to be a damn hypocrite at its finest.
“Triana...” I look over my mom who’s leaning against the door frame of my room, sporting a gloomy look. “I put the last remaining box in the car. Are you done packing up?”
“Yeah, ” I reply, zipping the bag.
I look around the room I’ve considered as my comfort place for the past 18 years of my life. White walls covered with a bunch of different posters and music albums, a bureau filled with old picture frames, and the small clear window bring a strong sense of nostalgia.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” Mom comments. “You don’t even want to leave this room for long! You were practically living here!” she follows with a chuckle.
I smile bitterly, shaking my head a bit. She’s right. I always liked it here. It’s peaceful. It’s so unhealthy to think that I want to stay in my room forever and I feel content with that. But I couldn’t care less ’cuz this is my comfort zone. This is where I free and rest my demons.
When the world gets cruel, I run here. When I get sad, I stay here. When I’m happy, I vibe here. Being in my room, all alone, listening to music solaces me...
Until it doesn’t. Anymore.
“Are you really sure about this, hmm? You can still back out—”
“I am sure about this, Mom,” I cut her off. “And I already have an apartment there. My things are ready... I am ready,” I hold her hands as I notice her eyes watering. “I want this. I need this, Mom.”
She sighs before nodding in defeat. “It’s just that... I guess I have to use my phone often, huh?”
“Probably,” I second, slightly laughing.
She holds me in a very tight hug I can already feel her longingness. I bury my head on her chest, trying to fill the box inside me with her warmth in hopes for it to last for the next coming days without her.
I know it’s also hard for her to let me go since I’m the only she has. But here she is, trying so hard to understand me. My mom is so strong- something I wish I reaped from her.
Mom helps me to bring my bags to the car. She even jokes that I should have brought the whole house because of the amount of things I packed. Sometimes, mothers are really dramatic, yeah?
It’s my last bite of banana when my cousin, Paul, barges into the kitchen sporting a scowl. Now, I know that look. It’s either someone disturbed him from his sleep or his girlfriend annoyed the hell out of him. I choose the latter, though.
“So when’s the breakup?” I try to joke but I still sound serious. I watch him get a glass from the cupboard before turning to me.
“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes as he filled the glass with water.
“Oh, I thought so,” I say, smirking. “So what did you fight about this time?”
“You definitely know why, Triana,” he replies harshly.
The smirk on my face instantly vanished, my chest tightening. I look down my feet, nails digging my palms hard. He doesn’t have the intention to hurt you with his words, Triana. He’s just pent up...
I hear him sigh loudly. “Iana... I’m... Ah, shit. I’m sorry for bursting out my anger to you. Don’t mind what I said, yeah? It’s nothing,” he tries assure me.
I can’t help but smile bitterly. They always think about my feelings because I’m so sensitive— something I wasn’t back then. Paul is right, anyway. I’m the reason why he and Ria isn’t in good terms...again.
Maybe she tried to convince him to get to talk to me but as usual, Paul refuses because he knows and respect what I want even if it’s so irrational on my side. My family would always put up with my caprices and I’m done watching how it’s affecting them. That’s why maybe leaving is the best choice for me.
“Why don’t you at least try to talk to them, you know? Maybe they can help you change your name about your departure. Your friends are trying to reach you out, Iana...”
“They were my friends, Paul,” I stated. I looked away when I saw the disappointment plastering on his face. “I’ll go to the car first. Just follow after you’re done here, ” I finish and walk away.
He doesn’t understand what I had to go through before in the hands of what he calls my friends. They dropped me when I needed them the most just to save their image.
They have thrown me repeatedly like trash when I asked for their comforts. They drowned me more when I have yearned for their hands to help me get up from my own pool of demons.
They help me ruined myself more...
So I stopped hoping that they’ll come and help me save myself. I stopped trying to reach for their grasp. I cut them off.
Because that’s not how friendships work, right? Real friends won’t turn their back on you when things get tough. They’ll help you find your way back when you get lost, not push you to the wrong path more. Real friends would have your back no matter what, but not blindly. They’d help you grow as much as you do to them.
In my case, I failed to have that kind of friendship.
“Take care, my love. Always text and call me, hmm? Always eat a meal before drinking your meds. And Triana, don’t ever let anyone you don’t know get inside your apartment. The world is too risky. When someone knocks, you don’t have to open your door to talk to them. Got it? Mom reminds me for the nth time.
“You’re telling me that for a week now, Mom. You even put it on my reminders. Do you think I’d still forget it?”
“Ditto! I already memorized every words too!” Paul says.
“Boomerang much, Mom?” I tease. Paul bursts out in laughter. Mom rolls her eyes and I chuckle.
She cups my cheeks, looking at me with so much love it hurts. “And lastly, free yourself from the chains that are keeping you from moving forward. Live your life freely. But if you feel like coming back, the door’s open anytime.”
My eyes start to moist. I know Mom’s holding back her tears. She has been convincing me to just stay here with her, but now I feel like she finally accepted that she can’t do anything to stop me.
Mom, I’m sorry but this is what you get for raising a hardheaded child.
“Take all the time you need to heal and just...bring my lively Triana back, okay? The one who smiles and laughs because she feels like, not because she feels like she has to,” she continues.
And as the sun sets and the moon rises, I choose to run away from my only source of light to be my own light amidst darkness.
I run away because it’s too much for me. I run away instead of withstanding my battles. I run away selfishlyf and cowardly - without turning back. I run away to leave everything behind and start anew.
Mostly, I run away in hopes of redeeming myself.