You're so used to bundling everything up, closing it as tightly as you possibly can with a zip tie, throwing it into a box, and putting that box somewhere so far away and so deep within yourself that you eventually forget it ever existed. You become so accustomed to shoving everything away that when someone suddenly asks you to reopen that box and untangle everything inside it, only then do you realise how terribly you were treated, how much you tolerated, and how much of yourself you had quietly abandoned in the process. That's what dismissal does to you. You tell yourself to "forget it", to "leave it", to "not make such a big deal out of it", when somewhere deep down you know that it did pinch you. Maybe it hurt more than you allowed yourself to admit. But you leave it anyway, because hiding something away is often easier than having to look directly at it. Perhaps that's what running away does to a person. Instead of fight, you choose flight...
When I realized that writing isn't as hard as how our schools taught us it to be, I started a blog.