Sometimes I wish I was 16 again. It was a time when I could pack all my stuff into two suitcases, if I wanted to. Pack it all up and go.

Running away, and starting again, from scratch is a recurring fantasy I have. Not that I don't like my life. Mostly, I do. I should be content, and mostly I am.

But sometimes.... Sometimes responsibilities weigh heavily, problems seem insurmountable. Relationships appear to be returning a net loss....

And I think about what it would be like to disappear, leaving no trace, to go where nobody had any preconceptions, or any expectations of me. And it's such an appealing idea.

Would I be missed? Would I miss? Would whatever I ran to be even slightly better than what I ran from? And would any of that matter, if it was new and different?

I'll never do it, I know. I'm too timid, too scared, and too responsible as well. But every so often I just like to picture it in my mind