I have to stop running away towards that sheer drop. It will take me nowhere in life. At least not anywhere I am willing to end up.

All I have done the past two months is run. In every sense of the word. Physically. Mentally. Whatever you can come up with, I do it. It's like an addiction of the mind, soul, and body. Doing something else for the sake of escaping the need to face Reality.

Running, running, and running along this empty winding road, headed nowhere in particular, merely trusting my instincts to take me somewhere safe and protected from Danger. Danger which, in my case, will always be known in the form of Reality.

Also, in other news related only by the degree of tragedy on my life, I am messing myself up once again. My appetite's been depleting along with my sense of what's right and wrong. I can barely bring myself to eat meat. All I can think of when I see most food is how much they disgust me, and how sick it is of myself to be that way. It's terrifying, I feel myself slipping back into it's grip.

So much for a Great Escape.