Reason to stay

“I’m looking for a reason to stay… anywhere,” she replied.

Matter-of-fact.

Anywhere.

“Why here?” They ask...

This city where framework twinkles in long strips across the sky 

This house where she tucked her laundry basket in the corner

This world. 

Lately I catch myself feeling full and pressured and desperate 

Realising air has been caught in my chest much too long

I force broad and heavy, on-purpose breaths 

I force them into my belly and they claw their way back out my throat.

I’m depriving myself and I don’t even notice. 

I miss my carpet in the basement at Quail Creek Lane

And the squeak of the front door knob. That felt like home.

That’s all I can write about 

Over and over and over and over and over and over and

I want one so badly my body shakes

I wake up sweaty and breathless from nightmares

Sorting through my duffle bags of fur and designer clothes

Feeling stupid in front of a group of women settling in for a nap on the parking garage ground

I realise I’m one of them

I realise I won’t be sleeping for awhile.  

“Running isn’t better than trying”

That’s exact and I despise its accuracy. 

I despise that it rings in my ears long after I’ve heard it and it beckons me wide and low. 

This is the first time I’ve felt so conscious of my desire to run. 

A girl named Alexia told me I shouldn’t. 

That she’ll do what’s in her power to make sure I don’t run this time.

I cried.

And the other girl-

The one who dipped her chip into salsa and looked me dead in the face 

“You have gifts. Powerful ones.”

I’m ashamed I don’t remember her name.

Her words drug me out of bed the next day

and to the window. To the curtains to let the light soak into me.