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I'm staring out into the night,
And trying to hide the pain.
I'm going to the place where love
and feeling good don't ever cost a thing,
And the pain you feel's a different kind of pain.
I'm going home to the place where I belong,
where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm running from you know I think you got me all wrong,
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old,
So I'm going home.

-Chris Daughtry

8:27 PM
Conditioned Reflexes.

It's funny now when you think about it. Growing up, I didn't have the slightest clue that anything was different, or dysfunctional. I never wondered about the words, actions and behaviour of the adults, hell I was too engrossed with my power rangers and captain planet. I played with my toys all day long, got tucked into bed every night and that was it - my whole world. Then, I got caught up with the whole process of growing up, and I didn't want to care. It was like a lousy show on permanent rerun, and I was tired of it. They didn't bother me with it much either, so everyone just pretended that everything was fine and dainty. I stung when they came too close, and pretty soon, life and its tiresome little details became automatic.

Then I grew up, and everything became crystal clear. Suddenly, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't pretend not to understand what was happening and I couldn't escape from my overactive (and mostly correct) imagination. I couldn't run away from the real life consquences that arose from this particular recipe for a diaster. I was a young adult, and I was expected to shoulder some responsibility. So how do you even begin to describe what it feels like to live every day with the clock ticking loudly besides your ears slowly counting down to what you firmly believe is an inevitable and miserable consquence?

There was a small part of me that believed, perhaps naively, in miracles. It was that same tiny part of me that wondered if it was possible for us to be happy again and it was that small part of me that grew increasingly excited at the developments. Then the cracks started to appear and I grew doubtful, all the age old doubts and insecurities resurfacing. I started to brace myself, and grew resentful of them. Old they may be, but they were certainly not wise or diplomatic.

So now that things have gone astray, where do we go from here?

I wish I could believe in the whole idea of normality, but the distant prospect grows all the dimmer with every passing year. Sometimes I wonder what it would take for them to grow up and realise their folly. Too much I think.

They were and always are a recipe for diaster, too many years in the making.