i used to resent my husband for all those overnight trips you know the ones he volunteered for every damn time he was practically a ghost sometimes just a voice on the phone but now looking back i get it we all have our escapes don't we whether it's the open road or a sink full of dirty dishes it's a way to avoid the messy inconvenient truth of what we actually want and what we're actually afraid to face at home this pressure this expectation to be everything to everyone and sometimes the only way to breathe is to just fucking disappear into the mundane or the unknown whatever it takes to feel like yourself again or at least not feel like the person you’re supposed to be and yeah i felt like that a lot trapped in my own home wishing for a hotel room or just a quiet empty road to myself and that's a fucked up thing to admit isn't it but it's true