Aunita Hakimi

The Day I Ran Away

Day 789. That's the coded way I've remembered it. I left. Without a grand proclamation, without any warning. The weight of my decision fueled by an adrenaline rush, fear, and the ever-consuming urge to escape. I just... ran.

In that moment, there were no room for long farewells. I was afraid. Afraid that if I looked into their eyes one last time, heard their voice beckon me to stay, felt their touch, I might just drop my bags and collapse into the familiar embrace of what I knew. The fear was so palpable, it choked me, restrained me from uttering a simple goodbye. Instead, I ran towards an undefined freedom.

Now, in the quiet aftermath of my escape, faces of those I left behind haunt me. The gentle contours, familiar smiles, and sounds of laughter – they're all fading, dissolving into the shadows of my past. I desperately try to recall my mother's face. When was the last time I was close enough to feel her warmth, to take in her scent? Memories of her are like fragile sandcastles, vulnerable to the relentless waves of time.

How did it even come to this? All my life, I had dreamed of this departure. Yet, when the moment came, it was unexpected, jolting, a swift plunge into the unknown. I always said to myself, "I'll chase my dreams once I leave." But now that I have, the weight of reality bears down on me.

I left. But in my hurry, I left fragments of myself behind. Bits of laughter, traces of tears, and echoes of love. Fragments that'll never quite fit into my new life.

Life's ironic. I don't have many people now. Loneliness, my uninvited companion, often whispers its melancholic tales into my ears. But sometimes, in rare, beautiful moments, I find solace. In shared experiences, in resonating heartbeats, in whispered confessions of "me too" and "same here." These are the moments I cling to, the moments that remind me that while I may be lonely, I'm not the only one who feels like this.

Tears stream down my face, and I whisper to the wind, hoping it would carry my message back to the past, "Mom, hug me. Just one more time."