⠚retreat signal

[mayu]

"come here," she says.
beckoning with her fingers,
crouched down low and harmless-seeming,
she smiles.
warm and accepting and comforting,
to curious eyes and a striped tail,
she is a shelter
(and the saucer of milk an incentive).

Let this be said of me:

I don't like dealing with things.

When faced with something uncomfortable, new or hostile, my first instinct is to withdraw. To run away, to ignore, to distract myself with something else till the frantic tingling on my nerves eases.

Usually this means that I'll be too late to actually solve the problem, but sometimes I can't bring myself to care (or at least that's what I tell myself). To me, running away is always the best course of action.

One of my greatest wishes is to make enough money, then disappear. I want to travel the world (hah, idealistic much?) and set up where I feel like it, without a past and without a care. A blank slate, so to speak.

So clearly now there's something I'm trying hard to ignore.

Pssshhhhh it'll all be over soon.