I need to get out of here. I need to leave. I can’t be here, in this town, with these people. London is suffocating me. It doesn’t matter where I go in this city, the badness always hunts me down, the heartbreak always follows me, the trouble always finds me.
I want to go to the Lake District or the Swiss Alps and spend all day walking, hiking, reading, thinking, writing, dreaming. I desperately need a break, I need to be on my own and give myself enough time to recover properly. I need to be away long enough for people to forget about me and lose interest in my dramas, and long enough for me to forget how easy it is for the monster inside me to present itself. Maybe even long enough to kill the monster altogether.
Then, once I am better, I can come back to the city and everything will be new again, and I can start over as a good person, and everyone will have forgotten how I was once a walking disaster.
If only I could leave this town in the first place. I need to be let go.