(Open) Time to Stop Running

I trudge wearily through the streets, searching the houses. Wanting to find my home. My eyes flicker towards people who I never knew and probably never will know, wondering about their lives.
Finally, I reach it.
Everything seems fine. Just the way I left it. No broken windows, the door is still locked. No one is watching it or looking at it oddly.
I cautiously walk up the front steps, unlocking the door and peering inside. Everything looks fine.
I take a cautious step inside. There's no one here.
I drop into my couch, half in relief and half in frustration.
How long is this going to go on? How long do I have to be worried that one day I'll come home and the Peacekeepers will be waiting? How long?
You should be glad. You weren't caught. You aren't being chased down right now.
But it's not worth it! It's not worth living in constant fear, it's not worth all the anxiety. I wish they'd just find me and get it over with!
No you don't. You're such a cry baby. Just be glad you're home and not in some far away dark torture chamber.
Better that than this.
I close my eyes tiredly and lay back for a moment. Then, with a sigh, I open my eyes again. Time to get moving.
I force myself to stand up again and stumble down my porch and back into the crowd. I don't really know why. I'd rather stay at home. But I don't have the energy to fight myself anymore.
Go ahead Keepers, take me away. I'm exhausted. I'm scared. I'm broken. You can have me.
I'm done running away.