When I was a kid, I loved superheroes. Superman. The Flash. The whole idea that one person could be fast enough, strong enough, good enough to outrun the worst of what the world throws at them.
I’ve grown since then. Superman feels too clean now. Too resolved. The only hero I genuinely relate to these days is Bell Cranel — a boy stumbling through a dungeon he didn’t fully choose, becoming something through sheer desperation and will. But that’s a different post.
The Scene That Stayed With Me
There’s a moment in The Flash that never left me. The Reverse Flash — from another timeline, another multiverse — arrives on Earth One, and he can’t stay in one place for long. Not because he doesn’t want to. Because something is hunting him. A force he cannot fight, cannot reason with, cannot defeat. Every time he stops moving, it closes in. It drains him. So he runs. Constantly. Desperately. Because the only alternative is being consumed.
I watched that scene and felt something uncomfortable settle in my chest.
That’s me.
Born Running
For as long as I can remember, I have been moving. Not always physically — mostly internally. There has always had to be something happening, something filling the space, something between me and the silence. As a kid it was novels. Then manga. Then light novels. Games. K-dramas. Anime. Music. Even serving at church — which sounds holy until you realise you can use genuinely good things to avoid genuinely difficult ones.
The content changes. The function doesn’t.
I am looking for the next escape. Always. Even now, sitting still feels like a threat. Boredom doesn’t feel like rest — it feels like exposure. Like if I stop moving long enough, something catches up.
This is partly where “Distracted Genius” comes from, by the way. Not just scattered attention or too many interests. Something deeper. I am creative and I learn fast and I can build almost anything — but underneath all of that was a engine running on avoidance, not ambition. I was distracted because distraction was safer than stillness.
I Don’t Even Know What I’m Running From
Here’s the part that bothers me most.
The Reverse Flash knew what was chasing him. He had a name for it, a face, a history. I don’t. I’ve been running since childhood from something I cannot clearly identify. Shadows from growing up. Things that happened and things that didn’t. Wounds I never looked at directly because looking at them would mean slowing down, and slowing down meant getting caught.
It’s by God’s grace alone that I’ve accomplished anything while on the run. Because I have been on the run the entire time. Building things, learning things, creating things — all of it at a sprint, looking over my shoulder.
I’ve Decided to Stop
Not forever. Not completely. But I’m done pretending the demons aren’t there just because I haven’t let them catch me yet.
I don’t want to carry this into my future. The relationships I want to build, the business I’m trying to grow, the person I’m becoming — they deserve someone who has made peace with his past. Or at least tried.
So I’m turning around.
I don’t know exactly what I’ll find when I face it. Maybe I’ll understand it. Maybe I’ll make peace with it. Maybe I won’t be able to defeat it at all — and that’s okay too. Because my strategy isn’t to win by strength. It’s to outrun these demons into the arms of my Father and into my purpose so completely that even if they keep chasing me, they can never reach where I’m going.
They can pursue me all they want.
I’ll be too far ahead.