Chasing Something Or Running From Something; A conversation

“Are you chasing something or running from something?” He questioned while gazing at me with knowing eyes and sliding a beer in my direction.

A scoff escaped my lips as I took a sip of the alcohol in front of me.

It’s an easy question, isn’t it? Chasing something or running from something? But I didn’t have a simple answer.

“Does it really matter? Either way, it’s leaving.” I wearily responded.

He gave me a sad smile, “When did you become like this?”

“I was born this way..You can shake your head at me all you want, but it is true. I was born to leave. I lack roots to anyone and anything. A spirit of a storm runs through my veins and it’s constantly rolling like thunder. I am beautiful the way a storm is beautiful, in the way that it cannot be touched or tamed. I am in a constant state of passing through, going as quickly as I came. It’s a gift and a curse; the constant need of being anywhere but here.”

“..But what about love,” he pleaded, “if you’re constantly leaving then there is no time for loving. Isn’t it lonely? Going through the motions…alone?” His response was slow, drawn out, almost as if he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to ask the question.

A laugh made its way through my lips and I almost didn’t recognize the sound. It was colder. Harsher. But it was me.

“Love. Hmph. Love, my darling, isn’t for everyone… No, let me finish. There are people who bask in it. People who search for it their entire lives. They love, love. Some cannot live without it, and then there are some who simply don’t want it. Or can’t have it. I’m going to give you an example that resonates with me. Peter Pan. He’s barred from growing up, it’s the one thing he can never have, no matter how badly he may long for it. Perhaps, I’m Peter Pan, and love to me, is growing up to him.” I shrugged.

His hands found their way across the bar and took mine in, holding them tightly. “But some people are worth it.”

I could feel my facial expression growing softer, a sad smile made it’s way to my lips.

“I know that, don’t think that I don’t. I have made sacrifices that many will never understand. Sacrifices that lead me to a place so dark that even the sun could not shine upon it. I am sincerely a storm with skin and once the wind picks up, I leave. It’s easier that way. I save them from myself, perhaps because I don’t want to drown them in the waves that I have learned to ride out. I am destruction. If I stayed, I would destroy them, so I leave, I leave and let the damage take place within. I’ve broken hearts, but none more than my own.”

“That makes me sad, mon cheri. Tellement triste.” He always slips into French when he’s emotional. He gave my hand a firm squeeze. “You deserve to share your life with someone.”

“Mon ami, my dreams are my life and they are much too large for most people and I cannot fault them for that. My life will consist of constant moving, constant dangers, there will never be a down moment. My dreams are the love of my life. Traveling is the love of my life. Yes, I once dreamed of having someone as ambitious as me. Someone who wanted to do big things in this world, make it a better place. Someone who wanted to save the world as I do and when he died, the chances of it ever being reality, died with him. Now, it is merely a dream that cannot be reached.”

“Why can’t you live out that dream with someone else? He would want you to live, belle, you know that. He’d want you to find happiness.” He stated gently.

“We don’t always get what we want. I can’t have a white picket fence and a job that requires so much of me. So I guess the answer to your question is both. I’m running from one dream while chasing the other, careful to never let the one catch up to me. I simply can’t have both worlds, I can’t live both dreams, and if I have to choose, I’ll always choose saving the world. ” I took a big gulp of the beer in front of me, hoping the alcohol would ease the pain in my heart at the thought of all those I hurt along my journey thus far.

“Then who is going to save you, mon cheri?”

“Me? Oh, mon ami, I’m too far gone to ever be saved.”


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