Running.

The time has come.

You know you need to do it.

But you just can't.

You can't bring yourself to follow through.

You keep running.

Before you know it, it's been months.

Months of hiding, of pushing it further into the deep.

Months of bitterness, of anger. 

Months of build-up.

Before long, the build-up solidifies.

It can no longer simply be wiped away.

It has to be chiseled away, bit by bit, section by section.

Moment by moment. 

It's now a slow, meticulous process instead of the quick, less painful process it could have been.

It hurts.

And the longer you wait, the deeper the wound.

The longer you wait, the harder the build-up becomes.

When it could have just been dealt with it at the beginning.

When it could have been made it simpler.

When it could have been much less painful.

Yes, facing the music hurts.

Yes, looking into their eyes can be petrifying.

But what's more terrifying: dealing with your junk right away or waiting and discovering yourself ten years after the matter still running?