I can’t keep running to you.
Because it’s not healthy.
Truth is, I’ve been running from my own problems for far too long. But I’m just fooling myself. Moving place to place, carrying broken old bricks. Trying to rebuild a shiny new home. Because the house always crumbled. Merely a façade of what should’ve been.
I thought I could bury the guilt and shame. But it wasn’t mine to bury. Though I bore it for years until I was overcome with anger and exhaustion.
Now, I need to learn to live with my decision. Learn to adapt. Learn to heal. And learn to forgive.
But I can’t keep running to you with my problems. Bothering you with my infinitesimal issues. Concerning you with my worries, when they’re not your worries. Because that’s not fair to you, and your health and well-being.
I stopped running. I made a decision. I’m slowing crushing those bricks. And I’m scared out of my mind.
But I can’t run to you for help.
Because I’m afraid of running for you.
And that’s not fair to either of us.