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Guest
Guest
There have been times in my childhood when I have packed a little bag and walked to the bus stop. I had convinced myself that running away from home would be the best thing for me. Usually, within an hour or two, I'd be hungry or needing a bathroom. I'd walk home.
Today, I'm an adult. And for the first time, in many years, I thought about packing a bag and running away. Why?
I want to hide from myself. I want to hide from the myriad of family problems that I let take over my life. I admit it. I choose these feelings.
I have a younger brother. He is a drug addict. He has lied and stolen from his family. I found out, last night, that he and his 17 girlfriend are having a baby. I watched as what little bit of hope left, in my parents' eyes died.
Today, I'm an adult. And for the first time, in many years, I thought about packing a bag and running away. Why?
I want to hide from myself. I want to hide from the myriad of family problems that I let take over my life. I admit it. I choose these feelings.
I have a younger brother. He is a drug addict. He has lied and stolen from his family. I found out, last night, that he and his 17 girlfriend are having a baby. I watched as what little bit of hope left, in my parents' eyes died.