Runaway

As my boss asks me if I'm ok, the tears start to well up in my eyes again and all I could do is nod with a smile that fails to mask sadness.

"it's just that you look so sad when you're usually smiling" he says with an encouraging smile. "or should I just mind my business?" To this I laugh and say "it's ok, thank you though" and go back to hiding my face behind mindless work.

it's just one of those days where you start off singing in the shower and end up in a tug o war with the ppl u love best. Part of me just wants to start crying so my boss will send my emotional ass home but the other part wants to rage, scream, punch, draw blood from someone other than myself.

then there's the third part, the dominant part that just wants everyone to fuck off, who just wants to keep to herself and her books since her books never lied to her, never questioned her intentions, never tried to argue or read into her words they just spoke to her and told her a story. They calmed her down and took her to another place, they got her excited, bored, intrigued, horny and yearning to be the main character.

Her books allowed her to have an imagination, caused her to dream in technicolor, and above all let her do something she could never seem to accomplish in reality.... runaway.