ASHLEY
Running.
That was what I was going to do. That was what I had resorted to. I meant that I was going to run in literal terms. I was going to dabble in distractions, things that took my mind off the recent disaster. I was done wallowing in sadness, and if all I had to do was wear a mask over my actual self if that was what it would take to suppress the pain. To suppress self-loathing. The self-disgust.
Then, I'd do it.
After all, that was one thing I was good at doing. Hiding underneath the shell, the perfect shell I have painted for the world to look at. The perfect facade. The one I have worn for years. I was going to hide till it all went away. A big part of me was still hoping it was some dream that I so desperately wanted to wake up from.
What was the perfect definition of a
