My days went on without an end. Repetitive, dreadful, and _completely_ unbearable. This was my reality. I didn’t know what to make of it. I never really did quite understand. I just took everything day by day. Wishing that any second it would come to an end. Although I was never sure how. That’s probably what made me so accepting of it all. I never truly saw a way out.

One day I saw a crack through the door. It opened wider and wider as time went on. It took me a while but I eventually gathered the courage to wedge my body through. I made a run for it. I hoped you wouldn’t notice but you did. I wish I could say I was successful. Time and time again I would find myself back in your presence. You were a grip that would not let go.

You were always around but I never did love you. How could I? Having a heart in the situation didn't make it love. Neither did my compassion or sympathy. I held on to my truth and I wouldn't let myself forget it. Every detail stuck with me. A reminder of how things actually are. That way I couldn’t go back because I almost always do.