I just don't know how to categorize myself.

Every time things get difficult, I want to run. Sometimes just a little. Occasionally a lot. When I was little I ran, almost. I walked out of my house with my brothers, announcing to my parents that we were never coming back. Jeffrey was crying as he said, but he had his stubborn face on. Those two would have followed me to their deaths. Seth even went farther than I did, because Jeffrey and I stopped at the porch, his you-can't-stop-me face melting as he ran back through the door and tackled my mom where she sat in her chair. I yelled at Seth to come back and then jumped on my mom's lap, crying and saying that I'd never run away again.

Funny thing is, I didn't. My dad ran out to get Seth, who was really quite intent on leaving and had made it to the edge of the road, hesitating. And no matter how goth and angsty and depressed I got during my teen years, and no matter how much I thought I hated my parents, and how badly I cut, I never ran away. I nearly killed myself, once on purpose, once because I just didn't realize at the time how far I was going, but I never ran.

I want to run now. You know those times when you know you're doing something wrong and everything good inside you is screaming? Well, everything is screaming right now, except I don't know if what I'm doing is wrong. I just know it's not good for me. But I don't know if that matters, if it means Teddy is okay. Isn't helping someone survive a good enough reason to do something you don't want? I always thought so. I still do. But it's getting more and more difficult. (Random fact - I say difficult instead of hard if I'm trying to be serious or have someone take me seriously.) I can't stop thinking about going home. I finally got my plane ticket to visit and I can't stop thinking about it. I dreamt about it last night again. (Blogger says "dreamt" is not a word, but trust me, it is. I read a lot. Look it up, Bloggerbitch.) I'm aching to go back - it physically hurts sometimes, and I've never been good at waiting - and it's going to take everything I have to get on the plane to come back here.

But going home for even a week is going to be amazing. I can't stop thinking about it.

But am I a runner or aren't I?