This is the part when I break free...

There aren't any rules to running away. No checklist of things to cross off. No instructions. Eeny, meeny, pick a path and go. But if there aren't any rules, I wonder why it feels like I'm leaving behind a little bit of who I am. My scattered pieces are all over the place. A trail of crumbs dotting the map from everywhere I've left to everywhere I go, and they don't make any pictures when I connect dots. They are random like the stars littering the sky at night, warning me of the danger that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness. Nothing remains as it was. If you know this, you can begin again, with pure joy in the uprooting, and the realisation that moving on is pointless, that you take yourself with you wherever you go.