I'm running. As fast as my legs will take me, I'm running. My lungs feel as if they'll burst at any given moment. Still, I run. Up ahead there's a fork in the road. I have a choice: if I merge left, I'll slam face first into reality; if I hang a right, a path unknown. I tear right all and any prior hesitation shoved from my mind. I barrel down the road hoping...no, praying for an endless travel. The longer I'm able to forget the decisions I've made, the better. No matter what, I cannot return. There is no other option.
Regardless of how hard I try, I never can get it right; I never am able to keep my problems my own without them seeping into someone else's life, no matter my effort.
DISAPPOINTMENT.
SHAME.
INFURIATION.
DISTRUST.
All of which I see in my mother's eyes, regardless of if she says otherwise. I know better than this, though I fail to release myself from my own endless, smothering blame. I push with as much effort I can muster at the images floating inside of my head of my mother's eyes reflecting such things. I push with all that I have, at those eyes I'd seen not a half hour before, to get them out of my mind; the mental suffocation has become unbearable.
I'm running. Now somewhere I've never been; a place I no longer recognize. Still, I continue on toward whatever awaits me, even as my surroundings begin to blend. I force myself to stomach the leeching panic that is trying to engulf me and I push forward. My legs buckle and I'm on the ground, face first into the floor of the forest. This is where I am: Rock Bottom. I yank myself into fetal position and lie there. I allow myself to drown in my own regret as I attempt comprehending my choices made and deny the consequences undoubtedly sure to come. Everything around me is screaming. I begin to fade in and out, accompanying me a phrase I've never felt truer:

When it rains, it pours.

It all goes black.