A/N: A warning to some of you who may have triggers or anything of the like, this chapter does include mentions of suicide and depression. Sorry about that, I hope it won't be too much of a problem. :)
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My lungs gave out611Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxqdIFxe7G4
As I faced the crowd.611Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSEzMnGfh0S
I think that keeping this up could be dangerous.611Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhV1yMKbJQ5
I'm flesh and bone,611Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPMP7DQi3jt
I'm a rolling stone611Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKApn6FzOMG
And the experts say I'm delirious.
-All Time Low, Therapy
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In this moment in my lifetime, I had three options. (1) Kill myself, which always stood out to me as an extremely enticing option since about the day I found the joys of existential crisis. (2) Stay and comfort my family, riddled with grief, until the day I died. This is the option that would eventually and inevitably lead me back to option 1, as option 1 would still remain an option if I decided to go with option 2. I wasn't too keen on option 1 at this point, as it would be terribly inconvenient for my family and friends. There was only one option left, (3), to run away. Which would you have chosen?
I didn't speak to my mother, who was crying at the table in the kitchen, about my plans. She most certainly would not let me go. I figured I had the entire night (about 9-10 hours that I usually sleep through) and a few more hours after that before she contacted the missing child services. I would have to move quickly. Fortunately, years old having to travel around to support my father's 'business trips', and several seasons of disappointing girl scout camp-outs, I knew how to pack the essentials.
I packed several T-shirts, not caring of the looks but only the comfort, along with jean shorts, long pants, and running shorts. If I could have taken every pair of socks I owned, I would have. Socks are more important than the average person would assume. Extra shoes were not necessary, but I wore my newly broken-in running shoes, with several hair ties lining both wrists, just in case they were needed. I also tied my hair up with several hair ties, because when it gets hot and sweaty, long hair is rage-inducing and miserable.
I rolled my clothes, stuffing in as many articles of clothing that I could into the large pouch of my travel backpack. I had another smaller pouch, which into I put: a small hairbrush, (the handle lined with hair-ties, because really, you do not want to run out of those) a toothbrush with toothpaste, a collapsible water bottle (Half-filled), a crappy solar powered shake flashlight, my phone and my solar charger, (though I didn't plan on using it much) a sturdy rope I once used as a noose when I had hit a low point in my life, a few razors and a Swiss army knife, the entire emergency medicinal kit in my upstairs bathroom, and a couple packages of pop tarts. It was tempting to eat the pop tarts right then and there, but I resisted.
I was ready.
I made sure to drink a lot of water and pack up on the protein bars before I headed out. I did take my mother's money in her wallet, the first time I had ever done so, and I did feel badly about it. To say I didn't enjoy the freedom at least a slight bit would have been a lie, but there was a deep, penetrating sense of eternal guilt crushing my chest. On the table, a note, written in a spidery scrawl that was scarily similar to my father's, the pale scrap-paper read:
I'm a pretty selfish person, at this point, for giving you an even bigger problem at this time in your life, but I have gone to sate my curiosity. I'm sure that you're also curious, but without as much forward insanity and delusion as I have to drive you away and after the answers. There's no point telling you not to look for me, I know that you will. You are not likely to find me, I've got a pretty big start on you and I know how you think. I still love you, family sticks together. But this was necessary. If you really want to help, do some research and text me sometime. Remember that your little Chris loves you and misses you, and most importantly, is doing this for both of us. Godspeed, mum.
And, feeling like I had left a bucket filled to the rim with literal horse-shit on the table, I exited the door as quietly as possible. 611Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX0Tlo6x1jY
