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It's cowardly to run away but every day I find the idea more and more appealing.

Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to cut all ties and move to some obscure location, taking nothing with me and telling no one where I'm going.  Live in a jungle somewhere or on a deserted island.  Maybe I could make due in the mountains or somewhere in the dessert.

I'd never do it, but the thought is tantalizing   Sometimes I find myself just wanting to get in my car and drive for hours in a random direction until the road runs out, but even that I can't bring myself to do.

A Life Worth Living

It is, for some reason, exceptionally important to people that I carry on and persevere despite everything, but that's easier said than done.  If only they could feel the emptiness gnawing away at them from the inside; feel the despair resting in their bosoms and know the pain it causes.

If only they knew, maybe then they could tell me:

What makes my life a life worth living?