It was the most hilarious attempt to run away. Ever.

Hm.

But now that I look back, my other attempt to run away was funny, too.

Oh yeah. This is one of the things that most people don't know about me, so read on as if you're excited that I'm writing about this.

Yes, people, I had tried to run away. There were a LOT of times that I thought of running away (most of them when I was still a little kid in elementary school), but I didn't always really try. I mean, I was still a kid. My motive for running away then wasn't really running away for the sake of doing it. All I wanted was for everyone to miss me. Ha. The shallowness of me.

The first time that I actually did try was in high school. Unlike all my other plans, this one wasn't planned. At all. I was supposed to go to Beth's house... for... something. I can't remember what. Anyway, right before I left, Mom and I had another one of those fights that I can't remember what about, but I'm sure it was over something shallow. Those were the days that we weren't going to church, our relationship with Christ is practically non-existent (from our end of the line, of course), and everything was just wrong every single freakin' day.

Anyway, we got into a fight, and after my mom walks out on me and locks herself in her room, I went to my room, packed an overnight bag and left. I didn't even bring a lot of clothes because I didn't want to look obvious, just in case my mom comes out of her room right before I went out the door. When I got to Beth's, it was a while before I admitted to her that I didn't plan on going home that evening. I think she tried to gently talk me out of it, but I can't remember anymore.

If you haven't noticed yet, I can't remember the details very well. So... fast forward to a few hours later. What happened was my mom paged me — yes, it was the pager days...I don't think there were cell phones yet — and after thinking about it, I called home, and my parents ended up picking me up at Beth's house.

Yes, they picked me up.

I don't know about you, but I think it was incredibly funny. I mean, I could've gone home by myself. But noooo~. My parents picked me up. Ahahaha... Needless to say, my mom and I talked, admitted our mistakes, listened to each other, and then we were fine.

But of course, even though my mom and I are close, fights are unavoidable.

So, two days ago, my mom and I had another fight, but it actually started with her just talking to me. What she said stung (in a nice way). While I was pondering over what she said, I started to be frustrated with myself (I won't go into the details why), and I found that I couldn't speak. Why? Because I was sure that if I opened my mouth, my voice would fail me. So my mom, who hates it when people don't talk to her, gets frustrated, and thinks that I'm not responding because I wasn't listening. After another half hour or so, she finally goes to her room, and I — yep, you guessed it — cried my eyes out. Actually, no, scratch that. I cried my lungs out. Yeah, I had a hard time breathing. I think it's been quite a while since that last happened. Usually when I cry I don't sob as hard, but... there it was.

By the time I calmed down, clutching my ever-lovable meggie pillow, it was two o'clock in the morning. And then, I suddenly felt scared of the morning. I couldn't bear not being OK with my mom, so I didn't know how to face her in the morning. Sure, I could talk to her, but if she's not over what happened, then... well... it's just scary.

So what do I do? Clever little me decided to leave for a few days. I packed my bag pretty heavily this time. And since I had just come home from sleeping over at Sara's, my overnight stuff were still kept together. I decided to leave after a few hours, when the sun is starting to rise. And, let me tell you: I was determined. As opposed to my impulsive first attempt to run, this one was thought out. I considered the consequences. I weighed the pros and cons. I even wrote a note saying that I'm staying over at Sara's to clear my head, please don't call or ask me to come home, I will come home after a few days so don't worry, blah blah blah. And then, I sat on my bed and wait for the sun to rise.

And, what do you know?

I fell asleep.

That, my dear friends, is your cue to laugh at me.

Yes, I actually fell asleep, and when I woke up, it was 9 am, and my mom was the one who woke me. And she apologized. Oh my gosh. What a wake-up call that was. I just stared at her while several hundred thoughts ran through my mind.

What time was it? Is that light out? Oh my gosh, I fell asleep?! Geez, it was real stupid not to set my phone's alarm. Why isn't mom angry at me? Why am I even wondering about that? What if she saw my packed bag? Oh, man. My bag is huge, now that I look at it. What day is it? Argh, my eyes must be all poofy. Who on earth is that out of tune lark singing 'Bongga Ka 'Day" outside my window?!

Needless to say, my mom and I are OK now. And we laughed together at my attempt to run away again, though I think she laughed harder.

I guess I always knew that I couldn't run away. Not really. I love my family too much to run away from them. When I do leave home, which I inevitably will, I don't think I'll be leaving with angry thoughts.

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