“Trust Pink, Forget Stains”


  1. Disappear suddenly and completely: “Mary vanished without trace”.
  2. 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.

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