I left Hawaii the same way that I moved there; impulsively, running away from my problems, leaving a mess behind.
I’m still denying it. I’m still trying to tell myself it hasn’t really happened. I still hope to wake up in my box cluttered studio in Waikiki, wake up from this nightmare, the same great mistake that I just keep making, stuck in a loop. I want to wake up in my old apartment in Cincinnati, with the past two years just a dream, because I haven’t learned anything; it’s just become more complicated, more painful.
I left my job, stable income, benefits, insurance, just up and left without notice. I left school, halfway through summer course, a class I loved, was excelling at. I left my apartment, newly acquired furniture, everything still in boxes, all my things, all my things left behind. I left my friends, more friends than I’d ever had before, left family both real and adoptive. I left everything.
I had everything and I gave it up because all I ever do is run.