Do you ever just think about running away? What you'd do once you had gotten to the end of the street? It keeps crossing my mind. How I would leave, where I would go, if for once in their lives if my parents would care.
What would it take to make me leave? Would it take just one comment, one more fight just to push me over the edge? Is the shit I already deal with every day not enough to break me?
Would it be as easy as it seemed, just to take my car keys and drive off unheard and unseen? In my mind, I'm leaving, but in reality, I lay in my bed weeping. Because no substance, nor drug, nor pain is enough to take the thought off my mind. "What if things were different? What if you weren't running but just leaving? Perhaps that lost happiness of yours can be found along the way."
