Exit Plans

I have this love and hate relationship with windowless rooms.

Sometimes they scare me.

I lose my breath. Claustrophobic from what feels like a dungeon.

Sometimes they are solace. Refuge to quiet my mind, hear the thump of my own heart, revel at the sound of the tapping keyboard trying to whizz to the speed of my thoughts.

in windowless rooms, the first thing I look for is the exit.

I do that in all kinds of rooms.

I do that in all

kinds

Of situations and relationships.

My brain defaults to creating and executing exit plans.

What is the nearest way out of here?

And the farthest place away from here?

In the fight-flight response, all of me is wired to take flight.

Run.

From the disappointment of broken promises.

From the pain of unrequited feelings.

From the risk of things happening too fast, too soon.

From the frustration of things happening too slow, too long.

Running.

Leaving.

Have become like instincts to me.

Stay.

Hoping things will turn out for the better.

Hanging on for the words left unsaid.

Searching for the clarity in the chaos of my mind.

Untangling mixed signals.

Stay.

And still my eyes are on the exit sign.

My body towards the door.

My hand reaching for the knob.

I have figured this out long ago.

Sorry.

I have to run.