Lost and Found

I guess being found runs in my family.

No, that's not true.

Running runs in my family.

We might not necessarily be good runners, but we do run. Hell, my last name literally translates to "to run". My name literally means "(she) runs".

But we must not be very good at it, because we seem to have a knack for getting found.

Change name, start over.

Can't change my name. Can't start over.

Cut ties, run faster.

Don't want to cut ties.

Why the fuck should I have to run? Why can't people just stop looking?

And now, I can't really ever look at Russian Roulette the same way ever again, after I found out what he did to my mother. Sick motherfucker.

So yeah. I guess I do have some dependency issues. I can't help it. After being dropped on your ass so many times by so many people, you don't really want to anticipate it, do you? The solution is pretty simple...fucking stop depending on people.

I'm a bit too good at it, I should think.

And in the end, really, I'm just all messed up. I can't take control of shit because I'm just not a domineering kind of person. I can't take control without fucking up. I'm just naturally submissive.

But you can't be submissive if you don't trust people. So now I feel like my brain is fighting with itself constantly. Like two vicious dogs snarling and frothing at each other.

Meh. I feel like a walking paradox, sometimes.