- Disappear suddenly and completely: “Mary vanished without trace”.
- Gradually cease to exist: “those days are vanishing”.
I often think about running away. Not just when I’m “up” or sleepless, flicking through flights at 4a.m. and dreaming myself up through the dreg-end of the overdraft but also at times like tonight. It’s a child’s dream, a grass-is-greener, a hope of a special return to something that’s changed for the better. An irresponsible desire.
I’ve been told more times than I can count, you can’t run away from a problem. A problem is insidious. It follows, slow, pernicious, so close behind you that it’s inside you, spreading a step forwards and pulling you your two steps back.
Tonight, though, I am sitting up, at my parents’ after a good Easter weekend. I have been so tired lately. I sleep and sleep but my arms and legs are weak. Sometimes I am sure I can feel the weight of breathing. I haven’t been drinking much… for me, anyway. Still I can feel the low, a hot and flat palm in my belly. I don’t understand it. The meds work, they do, and I am working too, working hard to keep feelings like this outside of me. Yet, here it is, once more, catching.
So I’d like to run.
For once, I have enough money to get me further than the end of the road. I still have enough energy to entertain hope that this time I can outrun the low. I can dodge it somehow, edge past it, get away. I have written a note, a “see you” rather than a “goodbye”- a “please don’t worry, I’m only escaping a demon.”
I probably won’t go anywhere. A child’s dream played out at the bottom of the garden or the nearest bus-stop. I will wait until I am tired and stiff limbed. Later, defeated, pins-and-needles-tired, I will come home to find nothing has changed.