There is something to be said for the doing of nothing.
Laying on the sand. Wind blowing over and through you, weathering the hard edges off heavy thoughts.
Sometimes running away is an all consuming need. The want to be elsewhere.
Then on retuning home to the hum of domesticity the tug from the dark is less.
Sometimes the pull to escape is more about the return than the being gone.
More about the feeling of home wrapped tightly around you, soothing heart and mind. Keeping the darkness at bay.
Sometimes a heavy heart yells loudly to run, but it is not until the return to home that it truly begins to heal.