Oh Shit.

So I escaped.
Like a five-year-old.
Except now I'm an eighteen-year old and instead of running, I drive.
I drove. I drove somewhere that was mine.
I blasted music so loud that my rear-view mirror was shaking. I sang--almost screaming--until my throat hurt. I danced in my car.
I flipped a few people off.
I escaped.
But I can't escape forever.
Because I'm back now. And I'm stuck on my side of the wall, a panicky feeling rising in my chest. How on earth do you fight against a gut-feeling? How do I accept this lack of control?
I have no control.
Things used to be so certain. I didn't have to worry. Everything was in place.
But now everything is so wrong. And it has to be this way. And I have to fight this feeling in my gut that this is wrong. Because that feeling could be wrong. Things may not end up the way I feel they should. And I don't know how to do that. I don't know how to look into those brown eyes and not feel an odd sort of dissonance because there is a noticed space between us now.
It makes me panic. It makes me get really anxious and crazy and upset.
I don't know how to fight this feeling.
Other than by doing what I like to do--escaping.

And that's what today is all about. Me. My car. Really loud music. An escape.
An escape from having to constantly be surrounded by what should be but is not and can not.
And even though I screamed into the heart of Deception Pass--screamed and threw a tantrum and people looked at me and the wind blew and the sun beat down and I almost stumbled--I haven't actually escaped.
I'm still stuck here. I'm still stuck with this panic and loss of control.

But maybe I got something for myself in this.
I remembered that I can escape. I can up and leave and go some place that's mine and be gone for hours without really telling people (not counting a vague note for the roommate). I can go somewhere by myself and have it be worthwhile.
I used to love solitude.
I forgot that.
So maybe that's what I found when the big truck zipped past on the bridge and I jumped (not high, mind you).
And that makes my escape worthwhile.
It just didn't fix what I had hoped it would.