Exoding Yourself

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How many times have you felt like you wanted to escape? Escape work, your family, your partner, your dog who keeps pissing all over the carpet?

Well, I’ve left my job, my family and my girlfriend. I’ve even left the country. I sort of quit on my old life and started anew. I was young, independent and fabulous! I was living the life! I was IT!

But then, life bitch-slapped me and rolled me around in the mud before dumping me in a personally crafted inferno. I was alone, creating my own demons and trying to fight them off, unsuccessfully. That’s when I returned to the country and to my family. As for my girlfriend, we managed to rip each other into pieces, emotionally, before we went our separate ways.

A year later, I was back in the habit. I ran away again! I ran away from my grim memories. I created new flamboyant ones and I was on top of my game again. I started building blocks for a brand new life, elsewhere. And then I met her. I was there, and she was here. So I decided to become a soldier for love, and come back to be with her. Later on, this decision turned out to be the ultimate proof that soldiers are supposed to do as they’re told, and not think for themselves.

Now, as I look back on the past few years, I realize I was not trying to escape any of those elements of my life. I was trying to flee myself. I was trying to flee my thoughts, my perception of life,  and some of my obsessive habits. I was trying to get rid of the disappointment I found in myself. The person I was was unsatisfactory to me. And instead of facing my drama, I kept taking off to the next available location.

Recently, I’ve learnt to not only look at my reflection, but also see and realize that no matter where I run to, I will always be the same person with the same character, unless I decide to change myself. And I have done so. I still feel like I want to run away at times. But now I know that it’s my cue to stop and think instead of pack and leave.

Last week, I ran away from my latest job. But this time, I was sure it was the right thing to do. I left because the little guiding voice I’ve been listening to lately told me to do so. As loony as it sounds, I’m getting accustomed to following it. And it’s proving to be in my best interest.

Phoenix is a self-centered and sarcastic soul incarnated, perhaps by accident, in the bodi of a woman. As a writer with a temper, she replaces her "y's with an annoying “i” for aesthetical purposes and lives to crack a joke, at the expense of others. Her paranoid nature makes her sensitive to plants, animals and people. Ironicalli, after making fun of the Meem lesbians for years, she found a warm home there and is now renowned as its veri own emotional pest. She enjoys reading the paper with a hot cup of black tea while nude, more often than not.

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