I’m a leaver.

I’m a leaver — like, naturally.

It runs in my veins, it pumps my heart, it makes me sane. It offers me a different kind of relief when I know that my feet are not touching the same ground as before. Even if comfort will be replaced by chaos, even if it means I need to learn how to unlove, even if it’ll just be me on a new path.

I’m a leaver — not in a way that I use it to escape.

In a world full of people who find every reason to stay, I’ll find a single one to choose my peace. I can’t be with someone who keeps building me a home with their fabricated words. It won’t survive a storm, and it wasn’t made sturdy for hurricanes. I can’t look at it the same way you introduce me to it. How can I treat it like a home when it shows me that I’m behind bars?

I’m a leaver — you are too, right?

You abandoned these faces just so you wouldn’t forget yours. But I take my leave for everyone else’s convenience, even if it means that I’ll be the one who suffers at first. You like reading minds but couldn’t dive a little deeper into yours. While love is the only thing I worship, and that’s all I see in my tribe.

I’m a leaver, what else can I do?

In leaving, I don’t just choose myself. I see changes as a hope of sleeping soundly at night. I set sail with no direction to see, but like the ancient way of navigating the sea, the phases of the moon are there with me. I leave without hoping to see a bright and starry night, yet they greet me with their twinkles like I am a child they need to amuse.

I’m a leaver, but I tried to stay before bidding my farewell.

It’s easy to accuse someone of running away, of being a coward, and of not facing the consequences. To let you know, I fought, I stayed, and I believed that staying was the greatest choice to make. I’ve dealt with the pain, I’ve made so many efforts, I’ve tried my best until there was nothing left for me — it’s just that everything wasn’t enough because it was all just me.

I’m a leaver…

Only if there’s nothing to hold on to.