Regret and Running.

I run too much, you know. I'm always running away. 
Skipping town on the next bus out of here, even if it's just for a few hours, a few hours wherein I can breathe. I'm doing it again you know, pushing people away, not eating. I feel empty because I tried to fix things but as it turns out, he didn't want them fixed. 
I regret the things I've said. 
I regret that I couldn't say them aloud. I'm going to go and find me a cape, I think.