A lot of people I have met are fearful of returning to the same state they escaped from. I see wounded souls and battle scars, hidden beneath laughs and cigarette smoke. “We’ve made it this far.”, they say, and clink their glass to the muse of unawareness and celebrate their strength. Runners, is what they are. They won’t tell you how far they have come but would rather claim to be grounded and still. Rubber spines and crooked bones. Mascara stained and rogue lipstick. All covered in shades of charcoal black. I’ve seen them escape into an alternate reality and that is why I get scared when I see that they wear the same charcoal shade underneath their skin that I do.